Boxer and Socks with Suspender (Revamped, Gender Bend)
by KuroSaburo
Summary: A revision of my previous Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt Gender Bender story.
1. This is What We're Dealing with, Folks

**1**

Boxer woke up feeling half-hot, half-freezing-cold. Smacking his slightly chapped lips he realized his mouth was particularly dry and foul-tasting, and—upon checking his breath on his palm—foul-smelling.  
"Ah, piss!" he exclaimed in repulsion, rousing his bed-mate while he was at it.  
Wait, "bed-mate"? His mind briefly swam in a murky haze as he glowered at the waking, beast of a woman beside him. His gaze hadn't lingered on her for long, and maybe that was for the better as she took her time in rousing. Boxer knew his expression was an ugly one then, so he cast his sight elsewhere as the fog in his head took its time clearing. The events of last night's endeavors came slowly back to him in recollection, and he groaned and murmured. Wallowing in self-pity, he laid eyes upon her again in his peripheral vision.  
The _bitch_ was a bleached-blonde, with a vaginal passage as vast and dry as the Sahara; the experience left Boxer with little to no satisfaction and he remembered having to jerk the nut on his own in the end. He could have _sworn_ that he heard his younger brother's complaints in his ear, too, promoting further deflation.  
Oh yeah, Boxer thought, that was last night, too... .  
You see, reader, Boxer was contented to do _it_ wherever, whenever, however (Socks—that is, the aforementioned younger brother—suspected his brother may have been an exhibitionist). While he was content to flaunt his latest sexual acquisition in public domain, he wasn't exactly... _permitted_ to do so. With that being said, it came as no surprise that he had been ushered out of the living room, then out of the kitchen, then out of the bathroom—upon bringing the "bitch" in question home that night—until he realized his bedroom was right next to him at one point, so he happily hurried the Blondie in to get it on. What a disappointment she turned out to be! and after all that trouble in getting to that point...  
It wouldn't have even _been_ so bad if it wasn't for Socks's _prissy_, _pompous_, _pretentious_, _know_-_it_-_all_, _loudmouthed_ ASS!... .  
Boxer soon resigned to drag his own sorry, buck-naked ass out of bed, and toward the bathroom. He slammed the door in total disregard to his nightly companion, just as she had gotten to sit up and inquire about his well-being.

Boxer stepped straight into the shower, and gritted his teeth at the sudden sting of ice-cold water; sighing in satisfaction as it became gradually warmer. He leaned his shoulder against the tiled wall and he relieved himself. Briefly, he wondered what time it was, but figured he didn't much care to know either way.  
Once he had finished his shower and brushed his teeth to get the rank out of his mouth, he pulled on a pair of shorts and figured he'd go for a jog. A little exercise should do him some good, right?  
"Good morning, darling."  
_Oh shit._  
"Yeah, hey, babe," Boxer forced a smile to greet the blonde he'd brought home to lay. Honestly? He could have _sworn_ (again) she had been good-looking yesterday. Situated comfortably in his bed as she was, he noticed where her makeup was smeared and cracked. Her truer colors came clear in the coming light, and yes, there _was_ dried cum sheen left over on her lip. She looked well enough to have been cast for backup in Michael Jackson's _Thriller_, at least, that's what Boxer thought to himself.  
"Listen, I'm going to get some breakfast then go out for a run," he cracked his neck to relieve some pressure. "You can stay or you can go, but I don't know when I'll be back."  
Boxer wondered if she'd take the hint? He tried appearing disinterested: Avoiding eye-contact, making it all the more apparent that his thoughts were elsewhere. In his peripherals he could make out a smile playing on her thin—once plump and kissable—cum-smeared lips. Looks like he would have to kick her out in the end. And honestly! She just _happened_ to be dressed as a hooker, on the side of the street and smiling oh _so_ coyly at every man that passed her by, back then. She was only _begging_ for some stranger to pick her up to take her home to bone her in her blatant fuck-me-boots. And, normally, Boxer wouldn't have had the _gall_ to _pay_ for sex, but she looked that damned good at the time that he didn't mind dropping a few coins. _If _it had cost him at all (which it didn't). Maybe it was just because he had been _that _horny at the time, besides it was only supposed to have been a one-night stand... Maybe he shouldn't have said that she could stay if she wanted to. In the back of her mind she must have been thinking that one night was enough to win his heart with. Clearly there was some ulterior motive behind that kind of wishful thinking.  
Not in this life, bitch, Boxer thought, try again next time.

Obviously, there wouldn't be a "next time".

Boxer descended the stairs leading to the front room a little later, wearing his green-and-yellow jogging suit.  
"All right, brother?" His dull and gloomy baby brother greeted him, as he reached the foot of the stairs, through a milkshake that had been kept in the fridge overnight.  
The cherry had already been eaten... .  
"Yeah," Boxer spoke through a yawn, idly stretching his arms overhead.  
"That's good," Socks started, and got up from the couch before discarding the 'shake altogether.  
He approached Boxer in a way that made the latter tense.  
"Do you see this, brother?" Socks said, peering up at his brother with an eerie sort of malice.  
Really, there was only a 3cm difference between them, in regards to height.  
"S, see what? Hey, back up off me, man, I ain't do shit!" Boxer said immediately, retreating back a couple paces.  
"The guilty are always likely to say so right off the bat," Socks nodded with some sort of self-affirmation, before he grabbed Boxer by the front and pulled him nearer. "Look at my _eyes_, Boxer... Do you see the bags underneath?"  
Boxer blinked confusedly as he stared his brother in the face.  
"...Weren't they always there?"  
That had been the wrong thing to say, obviously, for he instantly came under unexpected assault.  
"SHIT!" Boxer held his face as it pulsed with a new, throbbing pain. Socks had punched him with enough force to knock him back, half-way onto the stair.  
"What's your problem!?" Boxer scowled, yet seemed weaker than his body type suggested, due to his current, lowly position. Part of him could sense as much, which caused his frown to run ever deeper, adding a considerable menace to his otherwise glamorous visage.  
While on the subject of countenance, Socks Anarchy, very much unlike his brother, embraced a Gothic subculture and its look. As of today, he wore clothes that attributed a more childlike quality to himself, the colors of which happened to be black, white, and blue, accentuated by cutesy heart accessories. Incidentally, Socks, in the right form of dress, could present a far more mature, masculine image: A man instead of a boy, a handsome gentleman, the total _opposite_ of his older brother, Boxer. Socks took much pride in being such, and anything to contradict this notion was unforgivable.  
That included his own brother.  
"That hooker bitch's screaming kept me from getting a good night's sleep," Socks began, looking down his nose at his brother haughtily. "I am holding you accountable, seeing as how you're the one who brought her in here with you in the first place."  
Socks tossed his head, getting wayward strands of his hair out of his eye. For it was getting to be long, as it reached down the length of his neck.  
"Well, sorry for getting in the way of your beauty rest, that's _real_ly _too_ bad," Boxer got up and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, sucking his teeth in mild annoyance. "I still say that if you let us fuck in the front room in peace you wouldn't have had to have heard her call my name."  
"You never said that to begin with (Boxer's face became a shade pinker). You will _not_ have your affairs where I can see them, and I'd prefer if you'd have them where I_ can_'t hear them either."  
"You're just mad 'cause you can't get any. I feel ya, bro. It's no big deal," Boxer shrugged it off, chuckling in what he considered to be understanding. "Whaddaya say I get you a night with a cute little number, and we put this thing behind us? It'll make you happy, trust me."  
"I want nothing to do with you or your herpes-spreading associates." Socks grimaced.  
"Stop being such a damn prude! You'd be nicer for it."  
"I am not prudish, I simply have higher standards. I can get the women you deal with e_asily, _because they are easy," Socks scoffed and waved his hand derisively. "They'd be lucky if I even gave them so much as a second glance."  
"Tch, you self-righteous—!"  
"You cunting man-whore."  
"You sugary-splooging—!"  
"Speak for your own bad eating habits, Señor Flaming-Ass-Crack (this particular insult is hearkening back to an event, what was promptly dubbed by Socks as the "Mexican Meconium" incident)."  
"Knock a few letters off, and you'd have BM, yourself."  
"Piss off—shit, all you could do is piddle away, with that minuscule baby-prick of yours," Socks's lips twisted into a cruel smirk. "All that screaming had been forced and exaggerated."  
"Like you would know! You'd prefer to be on the receiving end anyway," following the barks, Boxer's expression softened and almost seemed rueful. "Listen, I'm about to head out. Could you get rid of that blonde-bitch for me?"  
"What? Why would I clean up after the mess YOU'VE made?"  
"Just, please? I think she seriously wants to stick around. That can't be good for either of us, can it?"  
Socks paused, crossing his arms, looking as if he were considering it.  
"And why can't you show her the door yourself? It's right there." Socks said and gestured behind him with his thumb.  
"Yeah, but that makes me look like the bad guy."  
"Worrying about your reputation when you can be found at the sleaziest of clubs and bars? They know you by name," Socks blew a raspberry sort of laugh. "Face it, dickwad, whatever cleaner reputation you may have had, you've since tarnished it."  
"Shut up! Just do this one favor for me, will you, bro?" Boxer placed a hand on his kid brother's shoulder as he made for the exit proper.  
"...I would have been more inclined to do so had this really been the first and only favor you've asked of me..."  
"Yeah, I owe ya one, bro!" Boxer called back before slamming the door behind him.

Here on Earth, us mere mortals were graced with the presence of Heaven's righteous angels.  
Yes, right here in Daten city, in which resides our titular angelic brothers, Boxer and Socks Anarchy, at what lies on the fault line betwixt Heaven and Hell. The angel brothers were here, upon Heaven's orders, to do away with the Ghosts that plagued the otherwise defenseless city and its citizens. It really should not have been such a difficult task for the angels, because apparently, with each passing year, the Ghosts themselves gradually become that much weaker (though no less arrogant). Unfortunately, the angels themselves are quite juvenile. They had not had hands-on experience since arriving here on Earth, and what's worse, they're constantly bickering and are at odds with each other (as you've only just witnessed before). They have to be watched over by the priestess, who runs Daten's church atop Celetubby Hill—she provides them with room and board, and the guidance to see them through...  
Even so, the brothers indulge themselves on material, earthly pleasures like sinners—that being the very reason why they were cast out of Heaven in the first place. They were, in a sense, seeking redemption. Nevertheless, they are still in possession of their _Holiness_, in garment and spirit alike. They've the potential to be a formidable angelic duo, but for right now, the only foes in which the brothers had to combat with were fitness, and a woman's scorn...  
"Forgive him. It's how he was born," Socks spoke evenly to the weeping blonde woman Boxer thrust upon himself. "You'll find better."  
_Not in this life, but yeah, you hang onto hope, sweetie. W_as what Socks was thinking to himself.  
"Do—do you really think so?" she asked him, sniffling and gazing up at him through tear-stained eyes.  
Socks could see the gears turning in her head. She was plotting in the most predictable way already.  
"Not here. But elsewhere." Socks told her sternly, narrowing his eyes at her.  
She gasped and looked downcast.  
"R, right. I understand." With that, she gathered her things and finally left the church.  
"He'd better thank me for this," Socks said aloud to himself once she had gone.  
Socks had gone upstairs to his room after that, and once inside, he approached his dresser and leaned in close to examine himself in the mirror. He saw how his hair fell with him, bangs hanging well past his chin. He pursed his lips in contemplation... .

Just outside, a curious and ugly green dog named Chuck was relieving himself in the flowerbeds.  
This dog just so happened to belong to the angels of the church. Often he was abused in some way or another... And, suddenly, Chuck jumped and was instantaneously struck by vicious lightning, as if on cue (yet, not a cloud had been in the sky prior)... As the poor dog lay sizzling and writhing, he began heaving and retched: Out of his mouth came a stained and tattered piece of parchment with a message written in bright bold letters.

...

"Yo, I'm back!" Boxer said upon reentering the church, well after noon.  
He didn't even bother to wipe his feet... .  
"Do you see this?" Socks was once again there to greet him, and he immediately shoved a slip of paper into Boxer's face.  
"What is it?" He blinked, then some repugnant aroma wafted up and grazed his nostrils. "Ugh! And why does it smell like ass?"  
Before he could get over himself and read what the message said, the door beside him forced itself open, and a substantial Black woman in billowing white robes entered the front room.  
"Oh, hi, Suspender." Boxer said, seeming none-too-pleased by her presence.  
Suspender intruded upon them without any regard, snatching the piece of paper from Socks's hand like it wasn't shit. She was a mountainous and powerful Black woman (that didn't need no man), the kind you wouldn't want to mess with, and so Socks held his tongue, knowing better.  
"Ya'll know what this means?" Suspender asked them in her titillating soprano voice.  
"No. What?" Boxer asked, raising his chin.  
"It means ya'll better get yo' fuckin' asses in gear before they get beat!" Suspender momentarily went redder in the face as she shouted, immediately getting hot with Boxer, as if the angelic blond should have already known! "I can't stand these vague-ass texts, but that's all ya'll have to go on try'na find that ghost."  
"Yes, they are rather bothersome." Socks commented airily.  
"What's it even say?" Boxer hadn't had the chance to read it, since it's been shoved and snatched and waved around before he could.  
"Can't you read print?! The motherfucker says 'Milk'!"  
"Why the hell does it say 'milk'? Are we goin' after a fat cow? Want us to bring you back a gallon?"  
Suspender was on the verge of slapping the taste out of Boxer's mouth, but then she stopped. Her tone, which had gone from pleasant female soprano to stereotypical, imposing _Black Momma_, settled to a more calmer note as she spoke again this time.  
"...That doesn't sound like a bad idea, come to think of it."  
"What the fuck?" Boxer stood there blinking like a deer caught in headlights.  
"While you're out, why don't you pick up some groceries for me? I have the list already made," she handed Boxer a different sheet of paper, listing the groceries she'd need.  
Milk included.  
"But I just got back home! I went and covered two blocks and ran down and up this goddamned hill!"  
"Considering you're an angel, that is mere child's play," chimed Socks. "Nothing to fuss over. I don't think even a human would complain. No wonder you're worried for your figure, poor woman."  
"This is coming from the shit-stain that wears makeup and keeps his hair in a ponytail!" Boxer didn't want to acknowledge the change at first.  
"...Fuckhead has a point..." Suspender rubbed her chin, looking at Socks as if for the first time.  
"Don't you go siding with the small-dicked delinquent!" Socks shouted, losing his composure for a brief second (and subconsciously fingering strands of his hair).  
"'Don't matter. What matters is you two gettin' ya'll little asses in Mink and findin' and eradicatin' that Ghost before I get ugly!"  
Suspender cuffed at the two angel brothers as they made a break to get out of dodge.

"Mink" referred to the angels' Jeep Wrangler. It was shoddy but cared for, and Boxer was certainly attached to it. Boxer took the wheel drove him and his brother out recklessly, down the slope, and onto the main road.  
Socks sat quietly in the passenger seat, mulling over a map of Daten city, with a mug of sweetened coffee in his hand and a bag of chocolates at his side. He seemed completely unperturbed, confident in himself that he could finish his coffee safely while Boxer set himself on abusing Mink's gas pedal.  
After a few minutes, Boxer turned to his brother with a smirk.  
"You think we can find 'im at a Dairy Queen?" Boxer asked, jokingly.  
"Yes," said Socks, without looking up from the map.  
"You just want to go for your own fucking benefit!" Boxer chewed on the inside of his cheek.  
"Yes," Socks sipped pointedly from his mug and allowed himself a smirk of his own.  
"Be satisfied with the shit you have in your hands right now!"

...

"Ah, fuck! This city is huge." He scratched in his hair, with one hand on the wheel.  
Up until now, Boxer hadn't had the will to stray too far from the church whenever he went out.  
He and his brother were still new to this city after all, though now that they were sent to eliminate the first of many ghosts, they would have had to venture further out. The map kept them from getting lost, but with no sure direction, it might as well have been useless.  
"It can't hurt to check a Dairy Queen," Socks said after a long stretch of awkward silence. "'Milk' is all we have to go on. It could be at any number of places selling milk or milk-based products."  
"... The supermarket?" Boxer grinned.  
Socks held up the grocery list that Suspender handed to them earlier.  
"I'll drop you off." Boxer said.  
"What about you? What the hell are you going to do?"  
"If we split up, we can cover more ground."  
"Logic is a foreign language to you, brother. What. Are you going. To do?" Socks narrowed his eyes at him.  
"Yoo act wike I'm gonna do sumpthin'," Boxer puckered his lips and spoke in an annoying baby voice.  
"When aren't yoo doin' 'sumpthin''?" Socks mimicked him, then rolled his eyes.  
Boxer laughed.  
"You aren't scared to actually run into the ghost on your own now, are you?"  
"I'm not falling for that, Boxer." Socks idly pinched at strands of his two-toned hair.  
"What's with that anyway?" Boxer asked, watching him out of the corner of his eye.  
"What's with what?"  
They were arriving in the lot of the supermarket now.  
"Your hair, man. You should get it cut." Boxer scanned the lot for a place to park.  
"Hm? Are you coming with me?" Socks asked once he figured out that that's what Boxer was doing.  
"You got a problem with it?" Boxer blinked a few times, then turned an angry look at Socks. "Don't go changing the subject!"  
"What are you worried about how I present myself for, anyway?" Socks was eyeing Boxer suspiciously.  
"You make it sound like this is the first time," Boxer sighed. "You get that we look nothing alike, right?"  
"... That's bothered you?" Socks tried to keep himself from sounding surprised.  
"Hell no! Why would you think it bothered me?" Boxer answered, a bit too quickly.  
Socks decided not to press the issue further, and got out once Boxer parked the jeep.

"See anything that looks like a ghost?" Boxer asked while walking down the aisles with his brother pushing the shopping cart.  
"Unfortunately no, I do not," Socks looked this way and then that. "Frankly, I don't think a ghost would go publicly announcing himself anyway."  
"So how are we supposed to find them? I didn't come out here just to run that nagging priestess's errands, you know!"  
"I know. But isn't it the courteous thing to do?" Socks batted naturally long eyelashes at his brother, pressing a hand to his heart in mock chivalry. Though a little weirded out, Boxer couldn't help but laugh, and Socks laughed along with him.  
At the checkout, Boxer found himself noticing a strange coloration in the milk when it came to view on the conveyor. Grabbing it out of storage, it didn't much occur to him to check it before. It wasn't even soft brown like chocolate milk, and it wasn't supposed to be either.  
"What's wrong, brother?" Socks said, noting Boxer's sudden puzzlement.  
"Uhh..." Boxer shook his head. Maybe it was just his imagination.  
All things considered, he did get off to a rough start this morning.  
"Nothing. It's nothing."  
With the shopping done, Boxer drove out onto the main road again, catching traffic at its worse: Lunch hour, and everyone was heading to the nearest fast food restaurant for a quick, easy, fattening meal. Boxer freed a hand and made to rub at his belly, feeling hunger pangs. He'd skipped out on breakfast. A nauseatingly sweet aroma tickled his senses, as though prompted, and he glanced down to see a pretty bag of chocolates in front of him.  
"Ew, no!" Boxer made to shove Socks's hand away.  
"Well I tried to be nice, dick cheese." Socks blew air out of his mouth, exasperated.  
"Keep your balls of sugar-shit to yourself!"  
Boxer swerved into a line of waiting cars at a drive-thru, unable to take it any longer.  
"We're not that much farther from home, Boxer. I could make you something nutritious."  
"Don't talk to me about nutrition when all you eat is putrid sweet candy junk all the damn time."  
"... Touche." Socks kept to himself as Boxer went to get his greasy fix.

...

"You think Suspender'll be satisfied with just this?" Boxer said, shoving a few french fries into his mouth.  
"No, I'm sure she won't be. But who the hell cares anyway?" Socks lifted his chin thoughtfully. "If the ghost is a threat, we should be hearing about him soon enough. We'll tell her that."  
"Right..."  
Boxer wasn't looking forward to returning home again to Suspender yelling about his incompetence. He scrunched up his nose in disgust of the thought itself. Turning at the intersection, and beginning to climb the slope, Boxer deliberately slowed Mink's speed and began laughing mirthlessly.  
"Are you finally slipping into insanity, brother?" Socks asked without an ounce of concern.  
"Shut up!"  
Socks chuckled at his brother's expense, but it would be some of his too, as soon as they walked through that door...

"The church bells ain't rung, what're ya'll doin' back here?" Suspender said, standing upon the dais in the church hall, arms crossed. She seemed to stand several feet taller and at that seemed several times more imposing.  
"We ain't know where to look, you can't blame us, shit." Boxer replied, slouching in a pew, whereas his brother sat beside him, gorging himself on an elaborate sundae.  
"By the way..." Boxer sat up a little straighter, his eyes narrowed and focused on the visitor standing next to Suspender on the dais.  
"I see you finally noticed our guest," Suspender said, her expression softening by a fraction.  
"Yeah... I tell ya, it was kind of hard though," Boxer gestured to their guest, a stout woman in a gray suit. "She's so damn small."  
"Mind your manners, boy! This poor little woman's actually here requesting our assistance."  
"'Assistance'? You think we'd help some old—"  
"_Manners_, Boxer," Socks began sternly. He then turned to the elderly woman before him. "How can we be of assistance to you, ma'am?"  
Inwardly, Socks figured the women feeble, and she seemed to be constantly fidgeting. It annoyed the hell out of the angel boy, and he wanted nothing more than to hurry and be done with her, so that he didn't have to gaze upon her pathetic visage any longer.  
"Y, yes, well... You see..." she spoke in a mousy squeak, which grated on the ears.  
"Recently, as you may have already known, Daten's new high school was open to the public. I am their principal," she paused, seeming to have been expecting a response to this.  
She must have known how tiny and insignificant she appeared to be. She might have even gotten flak from the students and staff members alike. Which was generally unheard of, concerning any other self-respecting principal. But this woman appeared to be a total pushover, and that was Chuck humping her leg right now... .  
"Go on." Socks prompted her.  
"R, right," she produced a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at the sweat forming on her brow.  
She began again, while trying desperately to ignore the dog's futile attempts at copulation.  
"Things have been running smoothly until just recently: students have been acting wily, getting into mischief... At first it hadn't been so bad, they were harmless pranks played upon themselves that didn't cause anyone no real harm..." she paused again to take a breath. "Then it started getting out of hand. We're doing our best to keep things in order, but... but, but, but, but," she stammered.  
"But then some of the children started to go missing!"  
"Have you contacted the police?" Socks asked.  
He felt his mouth twitch as the principal began her inane stammer, but kept on his nice-guy facade.  
"Yes, they're looking into it, but as far as we can tell, there's just no physical trace of them left. I..." The principal gasped and started dabbing incessantly at her sweat-stained forehead. "I... Believe it may have been the work of some... supernatural being."  
"You're superstitious." Socks stated.  
"Oh, you think me strange, don't you?" She appeared crestfallen. Likely she'd been made fun of for it before.  
"No, not at all," Socks set aside his now-empty glass and spoon, then gave the principal his full attention for the first time. "I don't suppose, ah... If you don't mind me asking, that is... is milk involved in any way?"  
"Milk?" The principal said, bewildered. "Er, now let me think a moment, erm..."  
She appeared to have been thinking hard on it, and the mere act seemed to have been causing her a lot of strain and discomfort.  
"Never mind. It was stupid to ask that."  
"Damn straight," Boxer readily agreed, grinning.  
Socks shot him a quick glare before turning to readdress the fretting, superstitious principal with a reassuring nod of his head.  
"We'll look into it."  
"Waitaminnit, who says?" Boxer lifted his head and turned to face his brother fully; it was his turn to glare.  
"We'll look into it." Socks said more firmly.  
"Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, tha—GET OFF!" Finally losing her patience, she gave Chuck the dog a swift kick in the rear, sending the green canine soaring towards the two angel brothers.  
The brothers themselves promptly began taking turns, pummeling the dog as if he'd offended them as well.  
They did not stop until Chuck was reduced to trembling organ and pieces of flesh.  
"You're very welcome. We'll begin the investigation tomorrow." Socks smiled, feeling pleased with himself.

...

"You get off on that, don't you?" Boxer said as he sat beside his baby brother in front of the TV.  
"On what?" Socks asked, occupying himself with a chocolate bar.  
"Acting like a gentleman when you ain't really give a damn about that principal bitch," Boxer started trembling, balling his hands and trying to appear as meek as possible with such a broad, muscly physique. "S-s-s-stammerin' like p-p-p-p-poor Piglet."  
Socks mentally kicked himself in the shin for laughing at Boxer's imitation.  
"It's for our own benefit," Socks shrugged. "Besides, don't you want to see some action, finally? Aside from fucking whatever dirty skank ho you can find."  
"Well yeah..." Boxer scratched his side.  
Although they've only been on Earth for a couple weeks, Boxer was well-known enough here and there in Daten, even though he hasn't seen the greater part of the city yet. He frequented the clubs several random girls he'd met on a jog some days ago—he couldn't recall the exact date—pointed out to him.  
He was treated like a celebrity for his good looks and the Holy aura he naturally emitted, and he didn't much mind it at all. It got him pussy enough to occupy himself with, decent drinks when he wanted something robust, and even a bit of excitement when the jealous peer chanced fighting him for dominance. He _earned_ that reputation Socks belittled him for, and he was damn proud of it as it was. He felt bad for his brother, though, when he allowed himself to. Socks must not have been seeing that much action; did he ever even leave the church? It wasn't as far as Boxer could see.  
"What are you staring at me for?" Socks asked, becoming annoyed.  
"Ah, my bad, bro." Boxer didn't even realize he had been.  
He glanced back at the TV, but he wasn't really watching it anymore.  
"Fine, I guess we can go check it out." Boxer said after a moment's hesitation.  
"Hm? Oh, you mean the school," Socks scoffed. "It wasn't up for debate. This is the lead we've been looking for, odds are we'd be going there to investigate even if the principal hadn't come here when she did. Eventually the Ghost in question would get out of hand, and I doubt these humans could cover it up when it did."  
"Right, right," Boxer said, not really paying attention.  
"We'll be enrolling as transfer students."  
"Yeah, yeah," Boxer said, then he paused as his brain registered what Socks'd said. "Wait, what?"  
"I said we'd be enlisting ourselves as students during the investigation."  
"Why do we gotta do that?"  
"Oh calm down you big baby, think of the high school girls in miniskirts if it helps."  
Oh, it helped all right.  
It helped a lot.  
"On second thought, don't think of the high school girls."

"Too late."


	2. The Investigation is Underway

**2**

Boxer lay snoring obnoxiously loud in his bed.  
He was told to go to bed early last night, but like a total douchebag he completely ignored his brother and Suspender and spent the rest of that night out.  
The only courteous thing he figured he did was book a room at a dilapidated motel for a quick, and better fuck than last time.  
Yet his would-be considerate act would go unnoticed and would also, probably, result with another earful.  
Boxer jerked himself awake when he felt a pain in his middle. Blinking back the fog he looked up and saw Socks baring down on him with his usual disdain.  
On Boxer's stomach was a box that he found contained a white dress shirt, plaid pants, and black jacket, neatly folded.  
"What's all this?" He asked.  
"Your uniform," Socks sighed. "However, don't blame me if it doesn't fit properly. I gave it my best guesstimate."  
"Do I have to put it on now?" Boxer groaned.  
"Yes," Boxer turned at the hardness in Socks's tone and realized that Socks was already in his uniform, clutching his stuffed cat, Bones, under his arm. "Hurry the fuck up or we're going to be late."  
Boxer gazed down at his uniform, then back at his brother, and grinned the shittiest of shit-eating grins imaginable.  
He had quite the knack for it.  
"Could you give me, like, five more minutes, bro?"  
Socks responded with a grin of his own.  
"Do you honestly think I would honor that, after you cut into my sleep only a day before?"  
"Hey! I did you a favor and went to a motel this time!"  
"'This time'? Oh is _that _why you were late coming home last night?" Socks spat. "I should have figured as much, considering it's you. I almost feel sorry for the girl that had to go and contract the fifty different STDs you're carrying."  
"Go fuck yourself in the ass with a giant horse dildo, I ain't wanna hear your shit so goddamned early in the morning!"  
"You know a giant horse dildo would have been a much better alternative for that poor woman, but like I said, I don't feel sorry for her," Socks waved his hand, dismissing the matter. "Just get your whore-ass up before I spring Suspender on it. You know she favors the studded belt first thing in the morning."  
Socks allowed himself a sadistic smile at the thought before leaving Boxer to get dressed.  
Boxer shuddered, but more so because that smile might have held other implications.

Daten's high school was newly refurbished, and bustling with activity in the throes of early autumn.  
Though, however lively the student body may be today, overhead something ominous definitely loomed; it was only made worse when days ago some of the students started to go missing without a single trace. Naturally Daten's police force was called on to investigate the students' disappearance, but after speaking with and interviewing every possible suspect with relations to those that went missing, they came out none-the-wiser. Search dogs were unable to pick up any scent.  
No one knew anything, and if they did, they weren't talking.  
Suspicions arose, and the highly superstitious principal of Daten High was forced to seek divine help from the church.  
She had been a stout, gray-haired woman, meek and stuttering. It's a wonder how anyone could have taken her seriously at all.  
Nevertheless, the younger of the angel brothers saw her plight and offered to help.  
Now she waited with bated breath as the school day started anew.

"It was difficult to find a uniform that came even remotely close to your size, you know this don't you?" Said Socks, glaring sidelong at his brother as he (Boxer) drove Mink toward the high school.  
"Yeah, you keep tellin' me, as if I can't fucking hear!" Boxer barked in irritation.  
"I reiterate, because you refuse to wear it properly," Socks said, huffing. "Once we get out of the jeep, I'll have to fix it for you, _again_."  
He bit out the word "again" with a little extra venom.  
Boxer wore the high school uniform shamelessly, thinking it might have made him look "cool":  
He left the shirt's buttons undone, leaving the toned flesh of his chest and abdomen exposed.  
What's more, he forewent the plaid necktie that he found also came with the whole uniform, and the same patterned pants hung an inch lower than his waist, revealing the hem of his boxer shorts.  
"I can wear it any kind of way I want, it's on _my _back." Boxer responded, lifting his chin with a toothy grin.  
"Why in the Heaven's name did God have to saddle me with a pathetic excuse for an older—_older_—brother like you," Socks said, brandishing the high school's brochure at his brother like a weapon.  
Socks made a point to actually read it, unlike his brother.  
"But you, at the very least, remember that we're not here to announce ourselves as angels. We're incognito. We don't want to cause a scene or widespread panic, it will only hinder—"  
Socks was rudely cut off as Boxer pressed the accelerator, flooring it with a maniac look in his eye.  
He drove with reckless abandon, making a stellar, property-damaging entrance on school grounds, into the school building.  
He all but rammed Mink through solid concrete wall.  
Mink was super reinforced. He was fully capable of handling collisions of that nature, and worse when need be.  
But this was not needed, and, predictably, the angels—Socks unwittingly—garnered the attention of roughly the entire student body and staff.  
The lucky ones managed to escape being buried under mountains of debris and avoid injury.  
It seemed virtually impossible for Mink to fit into the hallway as he did, but he did, with nary a scratch or scuff mark on him.  
Boxer stepped out of the jeep and patted the hood of it fondly.  
"That's my baby." He said.  
"Subtlety, motherfucker, do you _know _of it?!" Socks bellowed, opening the door with excessive force in order to clear away bits of rubble and student.  
He ignored the gaping mouths and wide-eyes as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone.  
"I might have dated the whore, but it didn't end well." Boxer replied, snickering.  
"None of your relationships end well," Socks glanced over his shoulder, scowling.  
He sent two lengthy texts to both Suspender and the principal, apologizing profusely to her about the damage (but making no plans to pay for any of the expenses in repair out of his own wallet).  
"Right then, the direct approach it is." Socks sighed, shoving his phone back in his pocket.  
He surveyed the surrounding area, noting every face that stared back at him.  
_All ya'll motherfuckers ugly! _Socks thought with a grimace.  
It had not been what he expected.  
Most weren't even wearing their uniforms, let alone properly!  
Just the sight of these ungrateful, and no doubt unruly delinquents made Socks's stomach churn unpleasantly.  
He wanted to vomit.  
"If they're not even gonna wear their uniforms, why should we?" Boxer said, coming up to stand beside his brother, arms crossed.  
He smirked and reached for the ends of his shirt in an attempt to lift it over his head.  
Naturally, the female portion of their onlookers went crazy as Boxer began what acquainted to a strip tease.  
He even gave them all a wink as he did it.  
"Keep it in your pants, we're not here to breed, we're here to exterminate." Socks restated firmly, putting an end to his brother's nonsense hurriedly.  
"Hell yeah, but who says we can't do both at the same time?" Boxer howled his excitement.  
"I say we can't, because it'll take that much longer."  
"I can bear the wait if it means I can have a couple fucks on the side."  
"I'm afraid to say I don't share your sentiments. And being seen with you is ruining my beautiful image," Socks forced Boxer back a few paces. "Kindly keep within said distance of me, or farther if it helps, while we're here."  
"What? I can't even be close to my bro? Don't you need me?" Boxer clapped his hands together, batting eyelashes but stopping short to rub them as it irritated his eyes to do so. "Fuck..."  
"Brother, YOU need ME." Socks said, rolling his own eyes.  
Boxer placed his hands at his hips and snorted at the comment, turning up his nose with a cocky attitude.  
He made a show of peering through the crowd, lifting a hand to his forehead.  
Acquiring his target: a meek little Ginger with a slightly thick frame, clacking her knees together, obviously distraught.  
He straightened his back and strutted over to her location.  
|He pulled her to him aggressively, a hand round her waist and subtly creeping lower.  
"'Sup?" Boxer said coolly.  
"I, I, I—!" She stuttered in response.  
"Listen, my brother and I are new here, so if ya don't mind my askin'," he leaned in especially close, and his voice took a huskier sort of tone. "How's about you showin' us the ropes, eh?"  
"W, w, what?" The girl made her first, fatal mistake of looking Boxer in the face.  
It shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that angels were exceptionally beautiful creatures—not a blemish or imperfection on their awesome and holy visage.  
It goes without saying how someone with such an attitude and disregard and respect for others could win the hearts of the women he'd already slept with.  
And there were many.  
It seemed this pitiable girl would be no different.  
"'What'? I'm askin' you to show me and my bro around," Boxer had to keep from rolling his eyes at having to explain further. "You can do that, can't ya? I'll even give you a reward for your trouble." Boxer said, revealing a bit more skin with a shrug of his shoulders.  
"W, what!?" Her face at the moment could have made the sun envious of her.  
The shade was an astounding vermillion, and almost blinding in luminosity.  
"What? What? He wants your tender butt-meat, madam." Socks responded to her in a dull, deadpanned tone, enough to dim the light emitting from her heavily freckled face significantly.  
"_What_?!" She shrieked in a panic.  
"Motherfucker! I dare any of ya'll to say 'what' one more time!" Boxer hollered, finally losing his cool.  
He removed his hand and the girl was sorry for it.  
"W, w, w, w, wait...!" She said in an impressive imitation of the principal's own stutter.  
"What?!" Boxer caught and mentally slapped himself.  
"Goddammit...," he muttered, covering his mouth and managing to look sheepish.  
"Y, y, y, you... I mean, just... WHO are you?"  
"I—" Boxer began, but was instantly cut off by his brother's interjection.  
"Excuse him," Socks began, elbowing Boxer and drawing the girl's attention to himself instead. "My name is Socks Anarchy, we're new here."  
He extended a hand in friendly gesture.  
The girl hesitated to shake it, but did.  
"Knickers," she allowed herself a timid smile and curtsy. "B, but, you two came here, and look at what you've done!"  
She gestured to Mink and the mess Boxer'd made with him.  
"We'll pay for the cost in property damage," Socks lied.  
"H, how can you?"  
"You're underestimating me, sweetie." Socks smirked, looking at her with slightly narrowed, dangerous eyes. "That's not a very nice thing to do."  
"I—!" Knickers squeaked shrilly, but was interrupted by the bell for first period. "I need to go!"  
She scrambled for the excuse to leave, and ran with her long skirt billowing behind and around her thick legs.

...

"That could have gone better," Boxer said idly, hands behind the back of his head, as he walked down the hall, accompanied by his brother. "But we made one hell of a first impression, don't you think?"  
"Yes, but I wouldn't say it was a good one." Socks grumbled.  
It was relatively easy, getting past the initial shock, to ask a fellow students for directions to their homeroom.  
Boxer and Socks were definitely the odd ones out, and would have been talked about for a while.  
Whether avoided or crowded, they'd have eyes watching them, and ears constantly listening in somehow, somewhere.  
This did not bode well for their investigation, but with luck, the ghost would reveal himself. Hopefully sooner rather than later.  
"Don't worry so much about it, bro," Boxer chuckled, patting Socks on the shoulder as they rounded the corner and eventually came to the door of what they supposed were the right classroom. "Come on, how hard could it be, going to school?"  
Boxer entered the classroom in a few short strides, head held high.  
He wore an attractive smile as he turned to face the other students.  
They watched his and his brother's entrance curiously; though some were content to remain buried in books unrelated to the curriculum, or cellphones that they hide _almost _inconspicuously under their desks.  
Boxer's gaze fell upon the Ginger that he met with out in the hallway earlier.  
Understandably she was panic-stricken to see the new love of her life standing right before her, before the class that they would undoubtedly be sharing now—and who knows how many more?!  
To Boxer himself, she was average now that he was really _seeing _her. In fact, her attire suggested she might have been a Geek: A khaki green hoodie that hinted at a moderate bust and sported stickers and logos referencing obscure B-movies and Arcade games.  
The items sprawled on her desk further supported the Geek theory, those being decks of trading cards and odd battery-run toys.  
Seeing all this just lowered her attractiveness by a significant portion overall (a girl with a brain and personality? Ha!).  
Boxer turned his attention elsewhere and immediately found a better candidate for a fuck buddy on the side: A girl that was eying him approvingly as well.  
She was cute and petite, with hair dyed a bubble-gum pink.  
Sitting just in front of her was a boy that shared a few of the same facial features and bone structure as her, yet his hair was honey-blond and cropped shorter.  
He was giving Boxer the stink eye, seeing as how he was ogling the girl behind him quite obviously.  
He must have been her boyfriend, or more likely her brother.  
Boxer turned his head on finding a good-looking girl that would have been easier to acquire without all the hassle.  
He found an extraordinary brunette and knew instantly that that was the one he was going to go after first.  
He rubbed his hands together, plotting and cackling deviously to himself, and as he did so, he was elbowed quite harshly in the side by his brother.  
This was the first Boxer was taking notice of the teacher now, and apparently he (the teacher) had given a little speech of introductory, as prompted by Socks upon their arrival.  
The teacher's name was Mr. Rider Crop, a ghastly-looking character with a sullen, sallow face and eerie grin that rubbed Boxer the wrong way.  
His voice was cringe-worthy as Boxer now had the mind to hear it properly.  
"Please welcome Boxer and Socks Anarchy, class," Mr. Crop said, then turned his attention back to said Anarchy brothers. "Have a seat wherever you two would like."  
"Don't mind if I do, teach!" Boxer hurried over to sit in the empty seat beside the brunette, leaning over in a manner similar to when he'd done so to Knickers.  
Knickers saw this and became downcast, playing with her fingers and telling herself that it wasn't that big of a deal.  
Mr. Crop was a social studies teacher, and once class began proper, he instructed his students to turn their textbooks to page five to begin their lesson.

The lecture dragged on for what seemed like hours; while Socks found himself hung on every word uttered by Mr. Crop, Boxer was already contemplating suicide.  
He couldn't even register half of what the teacher was saying.  
He found himself staring at the book's illustrations in disinterest, then daydreaming idly about boning two hot chicks that just happened to be into each other as well as him.  
They happened to be the brunette (who had introduced herself as Cocoa) and the girl sitting across from him with the pink hair.  
When half way through first period, Mr. Crop gave out an assignment to answer questions and review the chapter they'd just covered.  
It should have been a quick and easy little exercise, if only Boxer gave a damn.  
Before he knew it, Socks was already nearly finished, and in the remaining fifteen minutes, he'd not even answered a single question.  
Conveniently for Boxer, Socks sat right next to him, so he could be inconspicuous about passing a note asking for straight answers.  
Socks took one glance at the note Boxer gave to him and tore it shreds without a second thought, which utterly destroyed Boxer on the inside.  
This gave Socks immense satisfaction and he smirked triumphantly at his brother upon finishing his own assignment.  
Fuck you too, asswipe! Boxer thought with a pout.  
At least he'd have the cute brunette—Cocoa, her name was Cocoa!—to console him afterward.

...

The bell rung, and they were ushered out by their fellow students, rushing to make it to their second period class.  
After that was lunch, which was all anyone was looking forward to, besides P.E., and when they could finally get the hell out of school to go home for the day.  
Second period for the two angel brothers was math. Again, Socks excelled, while Boxer was left in the dust.  
Or rather, flirting slyly with the girls he found to be cute.  
However, his fun was rudely interrupted by a swift kick to the back of his seat.  
Glancing back to see who the wise-ass could possibly be, he was met by piercing green eyes, partially covered by bleached-white bangs in a way that reminded Boxer of his own brother's style.  
"The fuck's YOUR problem? Asshole!" Boxer growled, forgetting (or not caring) to keep his voice down.  
"Keep your eyes to yourself, Blondie," was his response.  
"Vanilla, Boxer!" Cried the math teacher.  
Boxer wasn't intimidated, at first, by this teacher.  
That was mostly due to his status as an angel.  
It gave him a confidence that bordered on plain arrogance more often than not.  
And yet, after the teacher scolded both him and Vanilla, and gave them both a thrashing that left their asses sore, Boxer remembered that bringing intentional harm upon humans—especially those of authority—wasn't something he could just outright do as an angel.  
It was partially why he could only bite his tongue and take Suspender's ass-whoopings quietly.  
And with that, it was becoming more and more clear that Socks was reveling in Boxer's abuse, and he couldn't resist taunting him further on their way to lunch once the bell rang again, ending second period and bringing with it the coveted lunch hour.  
"How does it feel to know you can't always have your way, brother?" Said Socks.  
"How does it feel to be a dirty, cross-dressing, cock-sucking bitch-boy?" Boxer bit back, harshly.  
"Oh come now, don't be so butt-hurt."  
"I wouldn't if you'd stop rubbing shit in my face!"  
Socks shook his head.  
Having his laugh, he decided to change the subject.  
"Don't forget why we're here, brother."  
"To have lunch," Boxer said, straight-faced. "Man, I'm starving!"  
"I meant besides that."  
"Huh? Oh right! The ghost."  
"We should be taking this free time to really start investigation," Socks turned to Boxer. "Try asking around. And for the love of God, keep your fucking dick in your pants!"  
"I hadn't had a chance to get any just yet, shut up!"  
Socks scowled, then suggested the two really split up here.  
They were to meet back out in the hallway once lunch was over with any information they'd acquired and work things out from there.  
"Yeah, sure, I gotcha bro!"  
Socks nodded and parted ways after they'd gotten their food from the counter.  
Socks approached a table closest to him and asked those already seated if he could sit with them.  
He smiled and found it came rather easily.  
"Yeah, sure," said the boy he recognized from math class minutes ago.  
Vanilla was his name.  
Vanilla was unusually tall, he might have been older than those surrounding him at the table.  
Socks sat across from him, drinking in and committing every minute detail of Vanilla's character to memory.  
"I hadn't got to introduce myself formally," Socks began, making light conversation. "I'm Socks Anarchy."  
"Vanilla," Vanilla nodded to those at the table with him, "this is Velcro, Hoodie, Nail, Urn and Gem."  
Gem seemed to have been the only girl at the table, while also appearing especially close to Urn, wrapped around him like a stripper on her pole.  
"Charming," Socks muttered sarcastically under his breath.  
"Actually, I feel I might have come at a bad time." Socks said, looking and sounding as frightened as he could.  
"Huh, yeah," Vanilla agreed.  
"Lately we've been seeing less of our friends these past few days," said Velcro.  
Velcro was a raven-haired boy, with friendly brown eyes.  
Prettier than he was handsome.  
"By 'less' he means 'none'." Vanilla grunted.  
"Aren't you worried?" Socks asked, then jumped as Nail slammed his palms on the table.  
"Of course we're worried!" Nail said, garnering attention, but not caring. "But there's nothing _we _can do about it, apparently!"  
"Didn't the principal try to help?" Gem said, her voice and admittedly cute face contradicting the position she had herself in by nature.  
"Yeah, if you call praying at the church 'help'." Nail rolled his eyes. "When has prayer alone done _anything_!?"  
Socks didn't much like him, but he figured he could understand where he was coming from.  
"It's as you said," Hoodie spoke. "There's nothing we can do. We have no leads, we'll just have to wait it out."  
"But they could end up closing the school for public safety," Urn said, tossing his two cents in.  
"No one's turned up dead yet, but that is a real possibility." Vanilla said thoughtfully.  
"So you really have no idea where your friends could have gone?" Socks asked.  
"No. Why are you so interested?" Vanilla stared at him, his voice even and his expression unreadable.  
"I'm worried for my brother's safety," Socks lied. "He has a habit of getting his ass in stupid shit. Other than that, it's not a good thing that people are going missing, especially when there seems to be no cause for it, or trace of them left behind."  
Vanilla nodded.  
"Here's a clue, though, it turns out everyone that ended up missing was female."  
"All of them? Just how many went up missing anyway? I never learned the number."  
"About five or six. One of them being my cousin, Mocha."  
"I'm sorry."  
Vanilla shook his head.  
"I can't bring myself to care all that much to be perfectly honest," he seemed saddened by this, though.  
"Why is that?"  
"Hey," Nail said sharply. "You're asking a lot of questions new guy. Yet we don't know shit about you."  
"I suppose you're right," Socks lowered his head somewhat ruefully.  
Socks ate his lunch in relative silence.  
When he spoke, it was off the topic of the missing persons entirely.  
Looks like he would have to work his way up to trust before he could get anymore information out of these guys.  
This is turning out to be more trouble than it was worth.  
He had hoped he'd be able to find the ghost in a day, but it seems like that might not be the case.

Socks glanced around the hallway after lunch was over, he didn't see his brother.

On her way to science class, Knickers stopped short upon finding Boxer and Socks's jeep still parked in the halls.  
She saw no obvious way to maneuver around it, aside from climbing atop it and going from there.  
Hesitantly she placed her hands on the hood and hoisted herself onto it.  
"What the hell are you doing?" Came a voice that startled the piss out of her.  
"Ah!" she screamed and ended up rolling off the side of the jeep, onto the floor.  
Looking up she found Boxer hovering over her with a lack of any real concern.  
"I asked what the hell you were doing, are you deaf?"  
"I, I, I need to get to class, and, and, and, your jeep is in the way...!" She got up quavering, seeming deeply apologetic.  
"Hmph, get in."  
"W, wh—"  
"Don't start, just get in!"  
"Right!"  
Knickers climbed into the passenger seat unsuredly, as Boxer got in beside her, taking the wheel.  
"You know I'm pretty sure we're breaking several different laws by doing this," she said.  
"'Don't care."

Boxer revved up the engine and zoomed off down the hall, causing hundreds, possibly thousands more dollars in property damage.  
With Knickers screaming all the way.


	3. I'm Off Milk FOREVER!

**3**

_Boxer eased young, beautiful Cocoa onto the bathroom stall door.  
He'd stolen her away during lunch break, once he'd spotted her in the cafeteria.  
Boxer could hardly contain his excitement; she was likely virgin-new, and not only that, but they only had so much time to get down to business. Anyone was liable to walk in on them in the act, but of course, that only made things all the more interesting.  
Even if some guy did walk in, it wouldn't stop Boxer.  
He wouldn't be able to stop.  
_"_This is bad," she said.  
_"_It's OK," Boxer replied, low and mewling. "Hey, you want this, right?"  
He held her by both her shoulders, by comparison he may just as well have been a giant. Boxer leaned in and took her ear in his mouth to lick and nibble on. He was riding hard into her backside to let her know just how much she turned him on.  
_"_Yes," she sighed. "But... There's something you ought to know before we continue..."  
Her breathing was labored, and she was pushing back into him, just as eager as he was for sex.  
She'd probably guessed a while ago that he was a lot older than high school age, and that made her all the more excitable. She hardly cared what he was actually doing here, "masquerading" as a student, but she was far too horny, and he was goddamned _gorgeous_, and that big _thing_ was itching to penetrate her.  
_"_Whatever it is, it can wait, baby," Boxer wasn't listening.  
He wanted her, he wanted her badly.  
But then, after a few rushed tugs of fabric and a long hard look at _her_, he found that he'd been _far_ too hasty in his advances... . _

...

Socks had to remind himself once or twice that his duty as an angel here was to find and punish a Ghost rumored to be on school grounds. As he conversed amicably with Vanilla and a couple of his friends, Socks found that he actually _enjoyed_ being sociable, and attending a mortal school. At least these humans weren't as irritating and thirsting for pussy as Boxer was, or as nagging and motherly as Suspender was.  
On top of that, he was learning much more than he ever could have on his own in Heaven's library, or from Suspender's tutoring. It was just as Socks was talking about his blog, that the wall exploded beside him mid-sentence.  
"'Sup, bro?" Boxer said, throwing himself over and out of the jeep. Knickers was in the passenger seat, still trembling and trying to calm her nerves.  
Socks glowered at Boxer, and started tapping incessantly on the wood of his desk, with an occasional pause in between.  
Boxer stared confusedly at him until realization dawned on him: [Don't let out that we're related.] Morse Code.  
"Aw, you're that embarrassed of me?" Boxer threw an arm around Socks's shoulder, laughing it off.  
"Please remove your arm." Socks growled testily.  
"Nah, bro, listen," Boxer peered over Socks's head, then ducked down low, becoming level with him again. "I think I'm being mad-dogged."  
Socks glanced back to see that his classmates had indeed been "mad-dogging" his older brother.  
This only caused Socks to chuckle lightly.  
"You don't say," Socks drawled unsympathetically. "Where were you anyway?"  
"Huh?"  
"I told you to meet me out in the hall, but you weren't there."  
"Oh, well, you see...," Boxer halted, then gazed back at Knickers, who was still rattling nervously in the passenger seat. "I had to give Ginger a ride."  
"She has two good legs, I'm sure."  
"Mm," Boxer gazed down at Knickers's legs.  
Her long skirt concealed most, but not all. It was clear how well and shapely her legs were. Boxer nodded to himself in agreement, but even an idiot could see that he and Socks weren't exactly on the same page as one another.  
"Ahem!" The teacher cleared her throat upon regaining composure.  
It's not everyday a student comes in, driving his jeep clean through the wall... .  
"Oh, yeah, can I steal Socks for a minute? Thanks!" Boxer grabbed Socks and made for the exit without waiting for an excuse.  
Socks went along with his older brother, against his better judgment.

Once out in the hall, they kept on walking and Socks figured Boxer had a particular destination in mind.  
"What have you found?" Socks asked after a long stretch of silence.  
"Er," Boxer paused mid-step and suddenly slumped his shoulders, seeming forlorn.  
"What's the matter?"  
"Nothing, nothing," Boxer shook his head and turned to give Socks an obviously forced smile. "Anyway, I think I know who the culprit is."  
Socks stared at his brother, wide-eyed, aghast, and insulted.  
"You're shitting me!"  
"Any other day I would be," Boxer grinned his infamous shit-eating grin, "shit, ten minutes earlier I would have been."  
"What changed?" Socks eyed Boxer suspiciously.  
"...Let's not talk about that."  
When Socks raised an eyebrow, Boxer shook his head and led his brother even further down the hallway.  
They eventually made their way toward the opposite end of the school building, their destination: an empty classroom that saw very little use, if any at all.  
In it were chairs and desks, pushed back into the corners, and stacked atop one another. A layer of dust coated their surface, to show for their neglect.  
There was a black board that was partially white with residue, and a girl inside that wrote over it with stubbly chalk.  
Several other girls stood behind her, watching her as she did, Socks estimated about five.  
The girl writing sported hot-pink hair in long, elaborate curls. Coming up just beside her was another girl Boxer and Socks had both seen earlier in social studies, though her hair was a bubble-gum pink; the difference being that one was a lighter shade than the other. Her appearance prompted Socks to ask: "Which one specifically?"  
"Supposed to be the one writing," Boxer pressed his nose to the window of the door. "I can't see how, now that I'm seeing her, though."  
"I never saw how," Socks muttered.  
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Boxer hissed, obviously offended. "'Know what? Never mind. I'mma take this ghost chick out and be done with it!"  
"Don't just charge in there like a buffoon!" Socks fought to hold his brother back.  
Their skirmish caused a commotion that didn't go unnoticed by the girls inside.  
"Shit..." Boxer swore, defeated, and dejected for no discernible reason.  
"Good afternoon," Socks said, offering politeness, as the girls came to confront him and his brother.  
Though two chose to stay inside and listen, the other two were simply being nosy. Socks could see that only the one had any conviction, the rest seemed awkward to be there—as if they were just found out by their parents for doing something naughty.  
"Just what do you want?" Their supposed leader—the girl with the hot pink curls—asked. "Shouldn't you be in class right now?"  
"I could ask that of you," _stuck-up, Pinkie Pie slut,_ Socks thought, narrowing his eyes at her.  
"I am student council president, Strawberry Milk." She proudly announced, sticking her nose in the air with an aura of superiority.  
She placed her hands on her wide, practically child-bearing hips. Honestly? She had the appearance of a baby cow, plump and curvaceous.  
Quite pleasing to the perverted eye.  
Socks suspected if she smiled she would be cuter, but she was downright foul as she was now.  
_A greasy sow, _Socks thought, _possibly the offspring of a dirty heifer, and a rutting wild boar that doesn't discriminate between the species.  
_"We're in the middle of planning for a very important, upcoming event," said Strawberry.  
"Mind if I ask about this event?" Socks let his brother loose and took a bold step closer to her.  
He was taller than her by a good couple inches, nearly a foot, so she had to look up at him. But this didn't seem to deter her any, in fact she puffed out her ample chest in open defiance.  
Socks glanced behind himself to gauge Boxer's reaction to this, fully prepared to restrain him further if need be.  
However, Boxer didn't seem to notice, which brought genuine shock and worry—almost—to Socks.  
"Why should I have to tell you? Likely you wouldn't have anything worth contributing to our cause anyway," she said so knowingly, making a dismissive, sweeping gesture with her hand.  
This made Socks all the more curious, however, and determined to get an answer out of her.  
"Now, now," Socks began, then he saw that she made to slam the door in his face, which prompted him to stop it with his foot. "I'm sure there's no harm in letting us know, hmm? Who knows? We might even be able to aid you after all."  
Although he said "we," Socks wasn't so sure about his brother right now.  
Normally, Boxer would be trying to make a pass at these girls, if not fuck them all senseless right out in the open. Socks saw how he was ogling the other pink-haired girl in homeroom before, why wouldn't he think so?  
"Thank you, really," Strawberry said, not thankful in the least. "But we can take care of things ourselves. It's going _swimmingly_. Good-bye now!"  
She gave the door several tries, willing Socks to remove his foot. Pityingly he did after a while, and she made to ignore his presence altogether from then on.

...

"Boxer, are you all right?"  
They ventured outside after that, having missed the rest of third period, and on the verge of missing fourth altogether.  
Their plans weren't to legitimately attend school anyway, but this knowledge bothered Socks for reasons unknown to him.  
"Yeah," Boxer really seemed out of it.  
It ate Socks up inside to know that he wasn't the cause of this radical behavior.  
"What happened. Tell me." Socks demanded outright.  
"Get off my ass, bro, I'm fine!" Boxer rubbed his neck, making no real effort to hide his distress.  
And he must have known how bad he looked, for he said, "it's just... I mean... how often can you say that you really wanted to bang this hot chick... That just happened to be a guy underneath?"  
Socks eyes widened in mild surprise.  
Then he tried to make light of the situation.  
"I don't know," Socks chuckled. "After all, you say I ought to be on the receiving end. So brother, do you want to bone me?"  
"Ew. No. No. EW!" Boxer shuddered and pushed Socks away from him, disgusted by the notion.  
"So you ended up trying to lay a Tranny, huh?"  
"It was weird man, I mean..." Boxer bit his lip, his face interestingly pink. "She—he! Looked so damn fine..."  
"You should give it a try, you might like it, brother."  
"Piss off," Boxer said contemptuously, but tried shaking it off. "So what now? We couldn't find out if the curly-haired heifer was our ghost or not... Strawberry-something..."  
Socks had himself a laugh, knowing that he wasn't alone in thinking that she resembled a cow.  
"I suspect that she might be after all."  
"What changed your mind? Earlier you didn't wanna believe it."  
"Because how could _you_ find the ghost we've been looking for, when you're so utterly incompetent?"  
Boxer was too tired to shout anymore, so, in a rare occurrence, took the insult and ran with it.  
"Whatever. So you want to just take her out?" Boxer reached uncouthly down his pants in the middle of the school courtyard. "I'm itching to blow off some fucking steam, you know?"  
"Let's try not to cause another scene, we'll wait until school's over," Socks nodded. "All right?"  
"... Yeah."

"Hey, you guys!" Boxer and Socks whipped their heads simultaneously in the direction of the new voice. "What're you doing out in the courtyard in the middle of class?"  
It was that stuttering Ginger-Geek.  
"Well... I guess it doesn't matter anyway," she said, stopping just in front of them, realizing that that very question could be turned right back around on her. "Listen, could you... Ah!"  
Knickers saw they weren't paying much attention to her, continuing their own conversation as if she wasn't there.  
It went on that way, with her being casually ignored as she tried to speak over them. Unfortunately, she didn't have that strong of a voice, and unless she screamed she would not have been heard.  
So scream she did.  
"MY FRIENDS HAVE BEEN ABDUCTED!"  
"What?!" Boxer and Socks hollered in unison.  
"Yes! My friends, they're gone!" She flailed her arms about in desperation.  
"You were oddly fucking tickety-boo just a while ago to know that your friends were kidnapped!" Said Boxer.  
"'Tickety-boo'..." Socks had to say in open wonder.  
"I use words!" Boxer snapped.  
"Obviously, but do they mean anything...?"  
"Shut up, I'm stressed out!"  
"Anyway..."  
"Um," Knickers began playing with her fingers, left to ponder what had just transpired.  
"You seem fine considering your _friends _were just abducted," Socks said.  
"Well, they're not really my friend-friends, and I'm not really a loud, attention-getting person, but, but, but, but that's besides the point!"  
She tried to keep up the momentum, however as she went on her voice lowered to its normal, quiet, stuttering pitch.  
"You got no friends, do you?" Boxer leaned forward, eyebrows raised and hands in his pockets.  
Perhaps he was trying to give her a little of his sympathy.  
"That's _beside_ the _point_!" She shrilled.  
"Ow, fuckin' _shit_!"  
She could be loud if she tried, that's for sure.  
Boxer and Socks rubbed their ears as she went on, explaining the situation as it happened.  
"On my way to fourth period with Mint and Blackberry, Mint went off to take a dump, and not two steps further did we hear him scream!" Knickers shook her head. "It was probably stupid to rush into the boys bathroom as we did, especially since we were girls, but we checked the stalls and they were all empty! And as soon as I looked away, Blackberry was gone too!"  
"Not a trace left?" Socks asked, pondering, with a finger to his chin.  
"Nuh-uh! But, then, wait..." Knickers paused for a moment in thought. "I did see these long shadows that seemed to have come out of the ventilation while I was running away."  
She seemed sad that she ran away like a coward, but she couldn't think of what she could have done to remedy the situation by herself.  
"...Wait, the boys' bathroom?" Boxer said suddenly, as if he'd just come to a realization.  
"Y-yeah...?"  
"Nah, nothing," he shook his head. "But we might as well check it out, huh, Socks?"  
"Yes."  
"W, w, w, WAIT! You're going to the boys' bathroom, after what I'd just told you?!"  
"Yeah," Boxer looked at her as if she were stupid, but then smacked himself in the forehead, remembering they were _supposed_ to be incognito. But then, what was really the point of that, really? "We're angels, dummy we're here to take out that ghost for you pitiful humans."  
He flicked her on her own forehead this time.  
"Ow! A-Angels!? Ghosts?!" Though she held her head in the spot where Boxer flicked her, a huge grin tugged at the corner of her lips.  
"What did you go and say that for Rip van Trap-fucker?" Socks rolled his eyes.  
"Shut the HELL up, Socks!" Boxer stared hard at Socks as if to will his brother to burst into flame on the spot, with some laser vision he unfortunately did not have.  
"Holy cow, this is, like, so COOL!" Knickers exclaimed. "Wait till I tell Page!"  
"You will tell no one," Socks stated firmly.  
"But why not?" Knickers seemed genuinely lost. "I mean, it's kind of obvious that you're not high schoolers."  
The two of them stared at her, dumbstruck.  
"It isn't?" Socks started to rub his neck, taking a moment to feel sorry for himself. "Man, I could use a candy bar..."  
"Well, whatever-the-fuck, it's not important anymore!" Boxer shook his head. "Come on, girlie, show us where your friends disappeared so we can get crackin' on that ghost bitch's ass already!"  
"R-right!"  
Hurriedly, Knickers reentered the school building, showing the two angelic brothers the way.  
Boxer enters the bathroom first when they get there. Socks was just about to when he notices that Knickers just kept standing there, stationary.  
"Aren't you coming too?" He asked. To which Knickers shook her head vigorously "no".  
"I can't go in there!" she shrilled before catching herself and lowering her voice to a strained whisper. "It's the boys bathroom."  
To this, Boxer poked his head out, stared at her and said, "That didn't stop you from goin' in the first time, did it?"  
"Well, no, b-b-b-b-b-b-but that was only because no one else was around to help Mint when he needed it!"  
Boxer raised an eyebrow in mild disbelief.  
"You've gotta be kidding me—bitch, ain't nobody in here!"  
"That's beside the point!" Knickers said for the third time, turning in the other direction, and stomping her foot once, as if to demonstrate "putting her foot down".  
"Tch, whatever!" Boxer went back inside, along with his brother, who'd found the situation amusing despite himself.

They spent nearly an hour giving the boys' bathroom a thorough inspection and found absolutely nothing. It really was as the principal herself said.  
No. Wait!  
Socks knelt down beside the urinal and found a splatter of white something. At first it repulsed him, thinking it might have been semen. Someone had gotten a little too excited earlier. But in the light it shone a peculiar, bluish, brown tint. Honestly, he couldn't place the color entirely, what's more it did not reek.  
In fact, it reminded him of... .  
"Hey, what the hell are you doing over here, Socks?" Boxer said, approaching Socks from behind. "If you gotta take a piss that ain't the way to do it."  
"Shut up." Socks paused. "Hey, come look at this."  
Socks pointed out the stains left behind and Boxer grimaced.  
"Shit, I mean, I didn't think you were _that _lonely, bro."  
After recovering from the thorough beating his brother had given him for that calloused comment, Boxer asked, "What about it?"  
"Doesn't it remind you of anything?"  
"Spunk."  
"Obviously, but it has no odor, nor the same coloration or exact texture."  
"So what do you think it is, then?"  
"... Milk," Socks crossed his arms and pondered this for a while longer. "Human breast milk, given the color."  
"... How do you know what human breast milk looks like?"  
If the situation wasn't as dire as it had been, Socks might have laughed at his brother's expression.  
"That's not important—"  
"Yes it is!" Boxer seized Socks's shoulders. "Is my baby brother actually gettin' some? From MILFs even?!"  
Socks felt insulted that Boxer was expressing the same enthusiasm as a proud father would to hearing that his son actually had "game".  
Socks forcibly removed Boxer's hands and got to his feet.  
"Well we can be sure that our ghost really is here, given the clue sent from above," Socks said. "But we're still not sure where the students went. My guess is that the ghost is making a meal out of them as we speak."  
"Or drowning them in breast milk."  
"Or that... I'd hate to say that that's a real possibility. Though I can't imagine why, unless they had a lactation fetish they're exploiting on these poor innocent, high school girls... and boy."

"By the way, doesn't it seem unusually quiet to you?"  
Boxer took a while to respond, most likely imagining the scenario Socks had just brought up.  
"Huh? Oh... uh, I dunno." Boxer looked back towards the entrance to the bathroom and saw that Knickers was still standing here, occupying herself with a Gameboy. "Well yeah, Ginger ain't screamin' her ass off."  
"I meant besides that."  
"'Besides that'?"  
"It's been an hour and no one's come by to use the bathroom or anything. And we hadn't encountered anyone on our way here either."  
Come to think of it, Socks was right.  
It _had_ been an hour into the search for clues. And no one else was there to stop them from heading out into the courtyard, or question what they were doing walking this way to the bathroom. Well, it isn't strange to be on your way to the bathroom, but Knickers was right there leading the way. Likely it would have drawn SOME suspicion, even if they were supposedly new to the school.  
I mean, if it was THAT obvious we weren't high schoolers, Boxer thought.  
"They're probably just in class or somethin'." Boxer said, casually folding his arms behind his head.  
"Yes, but we didn't hear the bell ring for fourth or fifth period."  
"... Something's up." Boxer said, finally getting it.  
Boxer and Socks rushed outside to meet with Knickers, startling the poor ginger.  
"Ginger-Geek, did anybody pass by you while you were waitin' here?" Boxer asked her.  
"Uhh... No, I don't think so."  
"Shit!"  
"Why? What's wrong?"  
"It could be that the ghost knows about us," Socks suggested. "So it's working overtime. Up until now, it's only abducted the girls, this time you say that your boyfriend got snagged."  
"Y-yeah. … Wait, he's not my boyfriend!"  
Socks ignored her.  
"In the time you came running out in the courtyard and asking for our help, the ghost had probably gone and abducted the whole student body."  
"One ghost could?" Boxer asked out of curiosity.  
"I don't know, maybe." Socks shrugged. "But how else do you explain the lack of any-fucking-body here right now?"  
Sensing the severity of the current situation, Knickers took a deep breath of conviction and declared that she could help the two find the ghost if need be.  
"How?" They both said.  
"You may not realize this, but I am an expert in the occult," Knickers stated, as if it were something to be proud of. "I have a device designed specifically for tracking ghosts!"  
"You couldn't have used that earlier?" Boxer said, fixing Knickers with a look of total disbelief.  
"W-well, I hadn't thought that it could have been a ghost behind the kidnappings," Knickers lowered her head and started playing with her fingers, losing a bit of confidence. "Besides, I'm just one girl, I don't think I could do a lot on my own."  
"...Right." Boxer looked pointedly in the other direction, concentrating on absolutely nothing whatsoever.  
"We can use a device like yours," Socks stated. "If you really have something like that."  
Socks was giving her much the same incredulous look as his brother had.  
"I do!" Knickers reached for her backpack and revealed it was outfitted with some curious attachment and meter, like some sort of metal detector.  
It, in itself, was made of metal also.  
"What the hell is that thing?" Boxer and Socks said, again in perfect harmony.  
"It's my Proton Pack!" Knickers said cheerily.  
"Like in Ghostbusters?" Boxer said, sounding quite intrigued.  
"What?" Socks turned to his brother, quizzically.  
"Uh, nothing! Never mind!" Boxer's face took on an interesting shade of pink. It's been doing that a lot lately... .  
"Hee hee," Knickers seemed delighted. "It's a device that measures psychokinetic energy, the PKE Meter!"  
"But you just called it a Proton Pack, or whatever the fuck." Socks said.  
"It's what I call it when I want to be more original," she snorted, a very unattractive sound. "But seriously, this was the best birthday gift ever..."  
She cleared her throat embarrassedly and said, "Anyway, it can help, I swear it can!"  
"Well what're we waiting for? Let's finally go and kick this ghost's ass already!" Boxer pumped his fist and had Knickers lead them again.

...

Thanks to Knickers's fantastical ghost-tracking contraption, Boxer and Socks were able to locate their ghost, or rather, they were led to the school council president standing all by her lonesome in the gymnasium.  
"'Sup, Miss President?" Boxer said, readopting his cocky attitude.  
Looks like he was finally over "falling" into his earlier "trap".  
"You again," Strawberry turned to face the three of them. "What do you want now?"  
"Don't act so innocent, Miss Student Council President," Socks took a bold step forward. "We know of you. Well, my brother does at least. How he knows I haven't the slightest inkling. I've the mind to believe he fucked the information out of some poor girl, but that's neither here nor there."  
Socks shook his head and waved his hand derisively.  
"Why don't you reveal what you truly are?"  
"...I have no idea what you're talking about." Strawberry turned up her nose, haughtily.  
"Didn't my bro just get through tellin' you to quit playing games, skank?" Boxer barked like a dog at the end of his chain, waiting to be cut loose. "We know you're a milk-spurting ghost whore, so stop embarrassing yourself!"  
Socks and Knickers exchanged a look that went unnoticed by Boxer, as he stood staring Strawberry Milk down.  
"..." Strawberry looked this way and that, then sighed. "Very well then. Honestly I pegged you angel scum as moronic nuisances that wouldn't be able to catch on to my wondrous scheme, but you've outdone yourselves."  
Strawberry tossed her hair out of her eye, her curls bouncing complementingly about her round face.  
"Men could not possibly grasp the complex beauty of the female's ability to lactate!"  
She held out her arms and this seemed to initiate some sequence or another, as the ground began the shake underneath them. The stands and the floor yielded to some monstrosity lying beneath, that slowly revealed itself onto Knickers and the angelic brothers.  
They heard the moaning and howling agony of those students who went missing prior, and the obscene suction and pulse of fat tubes and pumps attached to the girls' bare chests, milking them of all they had to offer, or else coaxing them to give up their white treasure.  
All the while, the boys' nipples were twisted and jabbed incessantly into by smaller tubes and cords, with nasty-looking hooks and needles attached to their ends.  
All of them were strapped into harnesses and suspended in mid-air as the basin the pumps were connected to gradually rose into view, to dominate the whole center of the gymnasium.  
It all looked like something from some elaborate BDSM porno.  
Upon taking in every amount of detail of this atrocity, Socks gazed in wonder, mesmerized and drooling, while Boxer on the other hand, doubled over and retched.  
"Brother...!" Socks recoiled, more concerned for the condition of his expensive shoes than for his brother's well-being.  
"What the hell is this ghost bitch's problem!?" Boxer heaved.  
"That's what I want to know..." Boxer, Socks and Knickers turned back to the entrance of the gymnasium to see a high school boy in pretty bad shape.  
"Nail...?" Socks was genuinely shocked.  
Shocked that Nail was here, and shocked he remembered the boy's name.  
"Vanilla! Almond!" Nail shouted, his attention elsewhere.  
Looking again, Socks recognized Vanilla, but he couldn't be sure who Almond was.  
Vanilla's face was contorted in contempt and agony as he writhed within his confines. His body had received injury in places besides his chest and nipples, he must have put up one hell of a fight before being taken in.  
"Um, HEL-LO!" said Strawberry Milk, exasperated. "I'm still here, you know."  
Strawberry Milk leaped into the air, and in a gruesome display, shed her outer, human appearance like a snake shedding its skin, rather an insect its shell, in much less time than it would take.  
In that, she revealed her true, otherworldly form.  
Though she didn't look that much different from her human form overall, it was now clear to anyone who looked at her that she was anything but: With a shiny, solid black coating, broken up at the joints by red, and her mouth a glowing, yellow maw, there was no mistaking that she was a Ghost.  
"As you can see, I've established this stupendous milk factory for myself!" She stated, spreading her arms out wide in gesture to the disgusting machinery and the poor people subjected to its cruel, medieval design. "Quite the lovely set-up don't you agree?"  
"I'd have to _disagree_ with you," said Socks, wiping away some drool as he did.  
"And I'd have to tear you a new asshole for what you did to my friends!" Nail shouted, charging recklessly towards the ghostly woman.  
Predictably, he was knocked back by a wayward, flailing tube that dripped globs of white and brown breast milk from its end.  
"You know that kind of looks like..." Boxer began, pointing to it.  
"Don't say it!" Socks said, smacking his brother upside the head.  
Knickers only stood there staring, mouth open wide in astonishment.  
"Ginger, it might be a good idea to stay away, unless you want to end up like Nail." Socks said, gesturing to Nail who now lay sprawled underneath sports equipment, groaning in pain.  
"R-right," Knickers ran as fast as her legs could carry her, well away to a safer spot.  
"You ready to go wild, big brother?" Socks asked, smirking sidelong at him.  
"You bet your ass I am!"

Boxer and Socks stood beside each other, summoning a platform and light-show from seemingly out of no where.  
Beside the both of them were long poles that extended from the base of the platform to the elevated ceiling of the gym.  
They wore the Holy white and gold garb of the Celestials: Clothes made of fine silk and linen, bedazzled with red and gold jewels for Boxer, and blue and silver for Socks.  
For but a brief moment they flashed their ethereal halo and wings to further signify their status and heritage.  
They took to the poles immediately after, wrapping themselves around them, performing a short, yet sensual strip tease for their onlookers, stunning the ghost even as they removed their most holy undergarments while reciting their prayer and oath:  
"O pitiful shadow lost in darkness,  
O evil spirit born of those drifting through Heaven and Earth,  
May the thunderous power from the garments of these Holy, masculine studs,  
Strike down upon you with great vengeance and fury,  
Shattering your loathsome impurity and returning from whence you came!"  
Boxer and Socks transformed said garments into the weapons for which to do battle while shouting, "Repent, Motherfucker!"

Boxer begins with a head-on attack, launching himself into the air, using the stage platform as leverage before it disappeared completely. He met with Strawberry Milk in mid-air, who shielded herself from his assault with detached, drooling tubes from her evil contraption.  
Socks remained grounded and went to work on freeing Strawberry Milk's victims with the longsword his sock had morphed into, hacking and slashing at the pumps and harness, slicing clean through them.  
"Ah! Why would you destroy what I've worked so hard to achieve, you evil, vile men!" Strawberry wailed furiously, striking out at them, commanding and directing her machine with mere waves of her hand.  
"So ya got man problems, boo-hoo!" Boxer spat in her face, pistol whipping the flailing and undulating tubes with the handgun his boxer shorts morphed into. "All you needed was a good lay, anyone could see that!"  
"I would not willingly get within ten feet of a disgusting male creature, look there!" Strawberry Milk gestured quickly to a boy still secured in his harness.  
"What the—?" Boxer made the fatal error of halting his assault, as he recognized the boy there.  
"THAT is where a man belongs!" said Strawberry. "Why should a lady suffer after giving birth to the child the man has saddled her with? Nevertheless, she cares and nurtures for her newborn by providing them with her nutritious boon! Her milk! While I will admit that men are able to give, they're not so willing, and for that, they should be punished!"  
Strawberry lashed out at Boxer, sending him hurdling back down to earth, and crashing and causing an indent in the once clean and polished gymnasium floor. From there he heard Knickers squeal, and this was surely a mistake made on her part, for then Boxer could see a snake-like tube threatening to take her from behind.  
"Fuck!" Boxer shot at it without a second thought, scaring the shit out of Knickers in the process, earning himself another earsplitting shriek. "Shut the hell up and get out of here, Ginger!"  
"You will never understand what a woman has to go through! The pain of carrying and labor!" Strawberry continued to preach obnoxiously. "And yet we still have room to care and provide for our offspring!"  
"I ain't come here to be lectured on your feminist, man-hating viewpoint, bitch!" Boxer whipped his gun out on her again, and fired several shots, which were again blocked or deflected by metal and rubbery tubes and rods. "Save it for someone who gives a damn!"  
"You men are all alike!"  
"So says the one that kidnaps unsuspecting boys AND girls, and then uses them for her own selfish goals!" Said a familiar voice.  
"Who was that?!" Strawberry growled.  
Strawberry and Boxer both turned to find Nail with Vanilla, and supposedly Almond, and the rest of the boys and girls Socks had freed in the time Strawberry was focused on telling Boxer off.  
"Some of these boys here just want to live honest lives, and you want to screw that up and torture them just because they have dicks!" Nail shouted, cradling Vanilla in his arms, who lay unconscious.  
"Be quiet! It's for how they treat other women that—!"  
"Can you say that for every single one of them? Vanilla just wanted to find his little cousin, who you took away from him!"  
"It was probably better that I did, no good would have come from being around that stuck-up—!"  
"Would you two be your asses QUIET!?" shouted a very pissed off Socks, who revealed himself to have sneaked up behind Strawberry while she was arguing with Nail about who was right and who was wrong.  
He swung back his longsword and cut through the ghost woman's back. Strawberry Milk gave a cry and joined Boxer down on the gym floor, wriggling in pain.  
"I don't care about a ghost's sexist views on men, I care about chocolate and Oreo cookies!" Socks declared, standing above Strawberry now. "And you ruined dunking Oreo cookies into my breakfast milk, because you've distributed these girls' breast milk to the supermarkets!"  
"...Wait, what?!" That came from not only Boxer, but a few of Strawberry's victims as well.  
"I noticed how similar the milk we bought only yesterday was in coloration to the puddle in the boys' bathroom. After you revealed your 'master scheme,' things started to click," Socks pointed the tip of his sword at Strawberry. "Get your lazy ass off the floor, Boxer, and help me put an end to this Oreo-cookies-and-milk menace!"  
"I... don't know what the hell's goin' on, but I'm game for takin' out this ghost-ho!"  
"N, no! Wait! Stop!" Strawberry begged as Boxer got up and approached her with a maniac look in his eye. "Please!"  
"It's waaaaaay too late to beg for mercy now!"  
With another cut through, and a couple bullets to the head, the ghost was vanquished, exploding in a grandiose display.  
Only moments later, the sound and echo of the church bells rang throughout Daten, and two pretty coins dropped at the angels' feet.  
"What? Only two? After all the damage and trauma she's likely caused!?" Socks shouted in outrage.  
"Well at least we can say this day wasn't boring."  
Boxer took several good steps back when Socks glared menacingly at him.  
"Milk makes up 99.9% of the world's best sweets by being a very important ingredient in making them! Now it's all ruined, because I'm forever going to fret over whether or not this cake, or this brownie, or this cookie was made with high school breast milk!"  
"Ah, yeah, that sucks pretty hard on donkey balls right there..." Boxer chuckled nervously, scratching at his face.  
"Excuse me while I wallow in self-pity..." Socks dragged his feet toward the exit, but was stopped just short by the students of Daten High.  
"Socks..." It was Nail and a partly conscious Vanilla.  
"What is it?" Socks crossed his arms, not knowing what they could want, since they'd already been rescued.  
"Thank you."  
Socks seemed taken aback, as this was the first time he'd been genuinely thanked by someone for... Anything, really.  
"Erm..."  
"Really, thank you," said Vanilla. "Thanks to you, Mocha's all right."  
"And Almond." Nail added.  
"I guess you'll be leaving then."  
"Yes, well... Our goal was to defeat the ghost all along. There's no reason for me or my brother to stay any longer," though when Socks said it aloud, he almost felt sorry for it.  
"Right." Nail didn't seem happy, nor sad about this either way.  
"I'd like to introduce you to my cousin, if that's all right? Before you go..." Vanilla seemed prepared to accept a "no" regardless.  
"... I guess there's no harm in that."  
"Um..." came Knickers's semi-frightened voice, as she peeked back into the gymnasium. "Is it safe now?"  
Nail and Vanilla glanced back over at her.  
"Yeah," Nail said.  
"Oh, holy crap!" Knickers exclaimed excitedly, rushing back into the gym and drinking in every amount of detail.  
She approached Boxer and started to stutter, which grated on the blond angel's nerves.  
"Spit it out!" He said, irritably.  
"Oh my God, you guys are honest to God ANGELS! Really real ANGELS!"  
"Yeah, scream it to the world." Boxer rolled his eyes.  
"Oh, I will! This is _so_ cool!"  
"Looks like he has a fan..." Vanilla stated happily, though weakly.  
"Apparently," Socks shook his head, but allowed himself a smile.  
Socks was afraid, though.  
If he got any further acquainted with these humans, would he start to like it here? At the school? Would he want to stay?  
"Come on," said Vanilla. "She's over here. Nail, could you help me? My leg's not feeling too good."  
"Yeah, sure." Nail began carrying Vanilla over to where Mocha supposedly was, back to the crowd of recovering—and some weeping—students.

Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all if Socks stayed.  
He glanced over at Boxer, who was still trying to shake Knickers off, while slyly flirting with the other girls in the group.

"He won't ever change..."

To be continued...


	4. So What Now?

**4**

So it happened to be that the "event" former student council president, Strawberry Milk, mentioned earlier was in reference to a far grander scheme:  
In which she would have branched out to establish a number of milk "farms" in public areas, where multiple people were known to gather for easy pickings.  
Then she would proceed to distribute her special breast milk for consumption, taking over practically all of Daten's citizens and the dairy market.  
"And the world too, no doubt." Socks said musing.  
"Of course," Vanilla said, laughing, then wincing from the pain that caused him.  
The sinister ghost-made machine did not disappear or dematerialize straight away—as Socks suspected it should have done after Strawberry Milk's defeat.  
As Socks made the point to inspect it once more, it turned out that the machine was a hell of a lot bigger as a whole, with the means of mobility on spindly, spidery legs.  
Obviously, it would have had to be removed from school premises, which in itself would have been a painstakingly long project for even two bona fide angelic brothers to do, let alone a team of professionals; Heaven forbid there is an organization of experts on "Demonic Milking Machines and Their Dis assembly and Removal from School Properties".  
And if they _did_ call in a professional clean-up crew, there's no doubt that _someone_ would try and report it to the masses, garnering unnecessary, unwanted attention, and likely causing the school to shut down.  
Neither Boxer nor Socks were equipped to handle any legal ramifications, and be that as they are not totally bound to this Earth, it's safe to assume that earthly laws do not [strictly] apply to them by any stretch of the imagination.  
Although, Socks, being ever curious and inquisitive, humored the idea of Boxer in a court of law, facing life sentences out the ass for all the crimes he's surely committed throughout his unnaturally long life.

As Boxer occupied himself with the task of pleasing four girls at once, Socks contemplated this recent turn of events.  
Since it had been their first ghost, he couldn't have possibly expected anything as perplexingly absurd as this.  
The plan was to find and eradicate the ghost as soon as possible, which, in theory, shouldn't have taken more than the whole damn day.  
Inexperienced though they were, they were still competent fighters. Sure enough, they took Strawberry out with little difficulty.  
But it was her plotting, and the care in which she took to setting up such an advanced operation, that would have been all the more large in scale had Socks and Boxer not intervened, that made it all the worse for the boys, and by extension the whole school. Their intervention caused Strawberry to get anxious and she made the fatal error of trying to hurry her project.  
Socks could have only imagined how bad it could have gotten... .  
To make matters even worse, Socks had already made plans in advance to update his blog, in which he cataloged the confectioneries that tickled and satisfied his sweet tooth the most.  
Sweets that ranged from simple candy bars, to masterful confectionery artwork of foreign origins; decorative, and built upon meticulously by expert hands to please the eyes as well as the taste buds!  
Those delicious, sugary objects of fantasy, made to tingle the very tongues of royalty!  
"You all right there, Socks?" Nail nudged him in the side. "You're drooling."  
"Huh? What? Yes. Yes, of course!" Socks lowered his head and smiled impishly. "I was, well, never mind. Anyway! It's probably for the best if we call the authorities in on this one. What happened to the staff while this was going on?"  
"Drenched in breast milk and passed out." Nail said with a surprisingly straight-face.  
"That's unfortunate," Socks said, forcing himself to sound the slightest bit sorry. "Urn foresaw it, they'll have to close down the school while they get this beast out of here."  
Socks gestured to the basin and its flaccid tubes with his thumb.  
"Mm," Vanilla nodded in acknowledgement, then glanced away, seeming distracted.  
"Your buddy seems to be enjoying himself." Vanilla groaned, willing himself to ignore the moans and musk of sex in the background.  
"Excuse him, he was born butt-first as an infant." Socks groaned alongside him, rubbing at his temples in irritation.  
"I don't like what he's doing," Vanilla stated with a subtle twitch of his eye. "And if he so much as _looks _at Mocha—! Well he ought to be glad I can't walk straight right now."  
"You really do seem to care for your cousin," Socks glanced at her as she slept beside them.  
She only vaguely resembled her cousin, with shaggy, dusty hair, yet disconcertingly pale skin.  
Though her eyes were closed now, Socks saw, from earlier when Vanilla first introduced them, that she had cataracts in her eyes.  
This suggested that she may have been blind.  
"Yeah I guess," Vanilla allowed himself something of a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "She can get along well by herself. She's very resourceful, but sometimes... I dunno, I guess I worry."  
Socks suspected that there may have been a little bit more to that story, but decided not to pry.  
"What about you and Almond, Nail?" Socks couldn't help but grin a bit teasingly, and wider when he saw Nail blush.  
Almond was a porky boy, with chestnut-brown hair, and the sweetest smile and dimples Socks had ever seen.  
Almond was especially grateful for Boxer and Socks's help, and blushed at the concern Nail had shown for him throughout the ordeal.  
"Ye—ah, we were friends since Kindergarten," Nail rubbed his arm. "That's it!"  
That was so obviously not just it, but Socks left him alone out of courtesy.

The students that felt well enough went on their way out of the gymnasium, to either get their cellphones and call their parents, or rouse the sleeping faculty.  
Vanilla was left slouching on the stands, sighing.  
Nail went around tending to the others that weren't in fit condition to move just yet.  
Knickers saw to Mint, Blackberry, and the aforementioned Page.  
The concern she expressed for them seemed as a surprise to them, but was very well appreciated.  
Boxer was taking a break from his earlier rutting, but he seemed tense and uneasy, and Socks saw why as he spotted Cocoa kneeling not too far away from him, seeming forlorn herself.  
Socks couldn't help but laugh at his brother's misfortune, but he chose to sit beside Vanilla instead of baiting the poor thing.  
"Earlier you said you couldn't bring yourself to care about Mocha," he said. "Why did you lie like that?"  
"...I wasn't lying." Vanilla closed his eyes, breathing deeply.  
"But it was clear you did care for her. I don't understand."  
He really didn't, and he felt like a fool for it.  
He didn't like that feeling at all.  
"When I heard that she was gone I didn't feel one way or the other about it," Vanilla sat himself up as best he could. "I thought that I should have, so I tried making myself care. Frankly I don't understand how I could not. I really do want to care—I mean we're _family_!_—_and so I figured if I said it enough times, to myself and others, I'd convince myself that it was for real."  
"You're trying to convince yourself that you care for your family?"  
"...Basically," Vanilla turned to look at Socks. "Listen, I don't want you to think I'm strange! Mocha and I only see each other at school, and she's in a different grade than I am. So we don't even see much of each other, even when we can. There are times where I even forget she exists, and I have to be reminded she does."  
"I have no idea how that feels, seeing as how Boxer and I live, and are constantly together; we always have been." Socks didn't seem too happy about that fact.  
But what if it wasn't like that? Socks couldn't help but wonder.  
"I envy you," Vanilla said. "I was born an only child, and my family is rather estranged. I only know about more distant relatives because I've been told about them. My parents showed me the pictures, but I can't match names to faces, let alone remember where they stand on the family tree. They're... nothing to me."

"You probably don't give a damn," Vanilla cut across Socks as the latter opened his mouth to protest. "It's all right, I'm not asking you to. I just... wanted to tell someone."  
"You haven't told any of your friends?"  
"No. If I had, well, I'd risk losing them, right?"  
"I don't know," Socks stared out over the crowd. "They all seem pretty committed to each other."  
Vanilla followed Socks's gaze.  
He saw some of those he knew he cared dearly for; those he didn't even know, and those he hated, and those that were hated by others.  
And yet, here they all were, tending to each other's wounds and voicing their concerns.  
"...Maybe."  
Socks could only see half of what Vanilla was seeing, and he felt sorry for it... .

...

"Why didn't ya'll call and tell me it was this damned serious!" Suspender yelled, spraying spittle as she did on the boys faces. "And where the hell is Mink!? I had to run all the way out here in high heels, down that motherfuckin' slope!"  
"Our bad," Boxer and Socks said in unison, lamely.  
"Is that your mom?" Knickers asked, peeking out from behind Boxer.  
Boxer and Socks glanced this way or that, forcing smiles and thinking that she (Suspender) might as well have been their mother.  
"...What a lovely little lady," Suspender's demeanor made a 180 flip, and changed from Strong Independent Woman, to Kind, Caring Mammy.  
It tended to do so.  
"Oh, Boxer what's her name?"  
"What're you askin' me for?" Boxer snapped all of a sudden.  
"It's you she's taking refuge under; I just assumed ya'll were intimate. Like every other woman you come across in your peripherals."  
"It's, uh, um..." Boxer scratched his head, as if he'd totally forgotten.  
"Knickers." She said through a pout.  
"Yeah, that's it."  
"Hello, Knickers. My name is Suspender, I'm the priestess of Daten church. Feel free to drop by sometime and visit." Suspender winked, causing Knickers to shiver.  
"Boys!" Suspender hollered at the top of her lungs, making nearly everyone within earshot jump. "We're goin' home. Find wherever the hell Mink is and pick me up out front!"  
With that, Suspender took her leave of the gymnasium.  
"I say we grab Mink and leave without her." Boxer murmured.  
"I'd be inclined to agree with you, but she's just going to find us and leave our asses sore for it." Socks sighed.  
"Um..." Knickers reached out to touch Boxer's shoulder.  
"What?"  
"Er, never mind." She turned the opposite direction, shrugging her Proton Backpack up higher on her shoulders and beginning to walk toward the exit.  
"... Ginger," Socks said suddenly. "Are you walking home?"  
"Huh?" Knickers turned back to face him. "Yeah, I don't live too far from the school, so it's okay."  
"We'll give you a ride." Socks stated matter-of-fact.  
"Who the hell is 'we'?" Boxers demanded in open protest.  
"'We' as in 'me and you' shit-for-brains."  
"I object!"  
"You think I'm going to heed any of your objections when you ignore mine?" Socks snorted. "Do it, or I'll let word spread of your Trap-Humping ways."  
Having been reminded of that, Boxers was readily more compliant.

Boxer drove Knickers part-way to her apartment. She told them that she'd rather walk the rest of the way, partially out of embarrassment.  
She thanked the boys and Suspender for giving her a ride and left.  
Boxer swerved and raced back up Celetubby Hill, wanting nothing more than to be home, and sleep.  
It had been a long day, and a lot has happened.  
He felt he deserved the rest.

Once Boxer had gotten in bed, it seemed that not even a howler monkey could wake him up.  
He slept well into the afternoon the next day, and when he awoke, things were unusually quiet.  
Boxer climbed down the steps, one at a time. He hadn't any plans for the day, and he was just now waking up anyway.  
The only reason he got out of bed now was because of his bladder, and then his stomach.  
Now that he was awake he couldn't see himself going back to bed now.  
He had his breakfast and went to the front room to watch TV, finding that Socks was already there.  
To Boxer's surprise, Socks was eating parfait while surfing the web on his laptop.  
"Aren't you afraid that that was made with human breast milk or somethin'?" Boxer asked, taking a seat beside his brother, finding the remote and flipping through the channels idly.  
"I've come to realize that it isn't really that big of a deal, after all, human breast milk was intended for humans anyway, and our physiology is astonishingly similar... Who'd've thunk it?" Socks said airily. "It's more a wonder why they rely so heavily on cattle—or goat, or sheep milk—but it really makes no difference. I see neither enhancing the taste, and it already tastes damn (he paused to take a bite to further emphasize his point) good!"  
"That's sick, man," Boxer face contorted to that of disgust.  
"Of course, I always have the option of ordering from Heaven, but unfortunately, Suspender won't let me spend the very little coin we have for that." Socks seemed distraught about this, because in all honesty, the sweets from Heaven were [relatively speaking] unmatched in flavor and sweetness.  
But Suspender would no doubt give him another two-hour-long lecture on wise spending habits if he tried.  
"So what're you doin' now?"  
Boxer leaned in to see the screen.  
"Aren't you a nosy bastard today?" Socks snorted. "I just finished updating my blog; I'm in Skype chat with Vanilla."  
"You chat?" Boxer raised an eyebrow.  
"I do now."  
"Right..."  
Boxer saw it perfectly natural to read the chat log, as Socks took another spoonful of his parfait.  
He saw that Vanilla had invited one or two other friends during the chat session, but they've left now.  
They weren't talking about anything important, aside from recent events that caused the school to close until further notice.  
Then Boxer saw that Cocoa had been mentioned.  
"Are you finished digging in other people's business, asshole?" Socks said in a casual tone.  
"Yeah," he leaned back and directed his attention back to the TV.  
"I don't suppose you keep track of the whores you fuck?" Socks asked at length.  
"... A few," Boxer admitted. "They were the really good ones."  
"I'm surprised you're capable of gauging any quality in the affair," Socks turned up his nose. "I always thought that if it simply had a vagina, it was vulnerable."  
"Goddammit, I have standards!"  
Boxer's face turned brilliant red as Socks laughed boisterously, to the point where there were tears in his eyes.  
"Really, brother you expect me to believe that tripe?"  
"Why the hell did you ask anyway?"  
"I was curious. Because it seems to me that you find it peculiar that I'm chatting with Vanilla."  
"Well yeah, it is! Besides, I'm the older brother. I gotta look out for you, and I can be all up in your business if I want to. It's practically mine anyway."  
"Who told you nonsense like that? Obviously you couldn't have thought of it on your own. But then, what I want to know is why you're all of a sudden committing to such a thing. Heaven knows you never cared beforehand." Socks inclined his head at a peculiar angle as he was talking, then paused.  
Boxer raised a questioning eyebrow at him, until he righted himself and, calmly, reached to tuck wayward strands of his hair out of the way.  
"...You really ought-a get that sorted," Boxer turned up his nose in disgust.  
He really wanted to make a comeback to what Socks had just said, but he couldn't think of one.  
So the rule was to change the subject, clearly!  
"Don't come crying to me when your bitch-ass gets mistaken for a girl by some sweaty-ass loser tryin' to booty-rape you."  
Chuck sauntered into the living room at that moment, his attention was drawn, almost immediately, to Socks's half-finished parfait treat.  
He lunged himself forward at it, tongue outstretched and licking.  
Just as he was about to reach his prize, his advance was ground to a halt by a spoon, plunged straight into his cranium, and scooping at his grey matter.  
"CHUCK!" He cried in what could have only been purest agony.  
Socks chose to ignore him, turning and typing, apparently arranging a get-together with Vanilla and his friends.  
"Finally getting out more?" Boxer said and grinned.  
"I've gone out many times."  
"Really now? What do you do when you go out?"  
"None of your sticky beeswax!" Socks, in a fit, threw his spoon at Boxer's head to sort him out.  
"Ow! Ew! Goddammit!"  
In all honesty, Boxer was surprised, and perhaps even a little happy that his anti-social brother was finally making friends.  
Although Socks readily denies any claim that he was anti-social, Boxer really couldn't see Socks associating himself with anyone he didn't arrogantly deem worthy of his time.  
He had that sort of superiority complex that was so damned annoying.  
Truth be told they _both_ had some degree of that complex.  
Boxer couldn't help half-glancing periodically at the computer screen whenever he thought Socks wasn't looking.  
With his parfait finished, Socks resumed tapping away at the keys.  
It had a sort of ambient melody to it that made Boxer ease up and relax, coupled with the muted audio from the TV.  
However, he shortly forgot to be sneaky about it, forcing Socks to stop typing and stare—rather, _glare—_at his brother intently.  
"AH!" Boxer fell out of his seat upon noticing.  
"Boxer, just go. Leave!"  
"Ah, come on, I—"  
"GO!"  
"Fine! I'm not interested in whatever the hell you're doin' anyway."  
Boxer went away with his hands in his pockets.

Still wondering about his brother's social life, Boxer figured the day could not have gone by any slower.  
With no voice from on high, and the school closed down, there really wasn't much to do.  
Boxer figured he could go out and see more of the town, so that evening Boxer decided that he would take a leisurely stroll down the street.  
Just to clear his head.  
Perhaps he'd go and hit up his favorite bar downtown.  
Despite how sleazy the people and environment were around there, he was still capable of finding decent beer and entertainment, so he liked going there.  
And the people their came to know, and respect him around there.  
It was a nice reprieve from the nagging and disdain he got back home.

"Hello, Boxer," said a paralyzingly deep voice, not too long into Boxer's evening walk.  
"Panther..." Boxer said, turning to face this so-called "Panther".  
Panther was a hulking man, commanding authority in gaping strides, body burly and held upright.  
Even though Boxer was an angel, he still felt a twinge intimidated by this man in particular.

Boxer met Panther during a brawl some few days ago.  
Some cocky punk-ass wimp figured he could take Boxer in a fight, and readily lost.  
The rookie said something that really grated on Boxer's nerves, and so Boxer was rather ruthless in his retaliation.  
Even when it was clear he was the victor, he kept at it, until a much larger man—Panther—broke him away from the bruised little wimp and chastised him.  
From then on, Boxer was very distrusting of, and didn't quite like Panther. But he admitted he had some sort of respect for the man.  
Judging by his dress, Panther got around, and was wealthy.  
Although, it was odd to see such pristine visage in the slums.  
It was such a sharp contrast, it was almost painful to the eyes.

"I hear news about what happened at Daten high school." Panther said.  
"Oh yeah? Word gets around quick, then."  
"Indeed. I also hear that you were in the thick of the mess that went on there, too."  
"Er..." Well it was true, Boxer thought, rubbing his neck. "Yeah. I figured I'd help out some kids in need, you know?"  
"You ain't that considerate, boy." Panther chuckled darkly. "But it's none of my business, really. Though I can't help but wonder, all things considered."  
Panther spoke as if he'd know Boxer for all his life, and it pissed the latter off, for obvious reasons.  
"Do you really want to know why?" If he didn't, it was safe to assume that the news omitted the part about Boxer and Socks being angels.  
That, or they said it, and the readers brushed it off as a crock of horse shit.  
Despite the ghost activity, there were still many skeptics and those without an ounce of faith.  
Truth be told, after the incident, Boxer felt a little stronger for it.  
Maybe it was because of those kids' gratitude and renewed faith in divine and celestial beings?  
"You don't have to tell me. But what say I buy you a drink? I'd think you were deserving of some reward, after doing the parents of those missing kids a favor."  
"That's very generous, Panther." Boxer took a moment to think about it. "Yeah, sure. I'm always up for free booze."  
Together they entered the bar, and Panther bought Boxer several glasses full.  
By the fifth, Boxer felt a bit of a buzz, which loosened his lips a tad.  
"I always wondered why you hang around here in this dump, Panther."  
"Mm?"  
"I mean, it's _so _obvious you're better than this. You probably think you're on a higher pedestal than these fuckers getting themselves smashed."  
Boxer gestured around the bar to its patrons.  
Quite a few gazed over their way, but aside from a few mean looks and murmurs, they did nothing.  
"Maybe." Panther threw back his beer, taking several gulps.  
Boxer might not have known much about him, but he knew that Panther could certainly hold his liquor.  
Seeing him made Boxer want to compete, so he took another swig.  
"Things are more interesting here, but then, I haven't seen much of the city yet." Boxer belched unabashedly. "Only just recently am I getting work," he shook his head. "I didn't even get a chance to really show that _bitch_ what I could do."  
"Hmm." It was clear that Panther wasn't 100% on board, but he allowed Boxer to keep running his mouth.  
"I mean, goddamn! Well whatever. I'm just a little outta practice, that's all. I'll do better next time."  
Panther, figuring that Boxer was just having trouble in bed, offered his hand.  
"If that's it, I could give you a few pointers."  
"Huh?" Boxer hiccuped his confusion.  
A few more glasses, and his face was flushed a cute red that caused Panther to smirk.  
"I don't need your help, man," it was weird for him to even be offering. "Like I said, it'll be different the next time. I'll really let loose, just you wait!"  
Boxer's words were beginning to slur, and Panther couldn't help but chuckle.  
"You're sure about that?"  
"You don't believe me?" Boxer swayed slightly in his seat.  
What was going on? The man seemed totally composed.  
Just how much beer could he handle?  
Not only that, he seemed to be made of money.  
Boxer couldn't quite count the number of glasses he had by now.  
It was a lot, surely.  
Furthermore, how in the world could Panther help fight against ghosts? Boxer thought.  
Admittedly, that Ginger-Geek was capable of finding that milk-obsessed ghost in the first place, with her freaky Ghostbusting contraption.  
And she was but a little high school girl.  
Boxer found himself believing—for lack of better judgment and drunkenness—that Panther could, possibly, aid him in his holy duties.  
In fact, he was all the more willing to believe it, given the look of this beast.  
"Oh, I believe you. But you can always do better than better, you know?" Panther steadied Boxer with a hand to the blond's shoulder, and leaned in. "I'm feeling generous today. So how about it? I can bring more excitement in your life."  
"..." Boxer looked as if he was considering it.  
He wasn't in his right mind. Far from it.  
"OK, I guess. No big deal." He said.  
"Excellent."

Panther paid for the expense in booze, and escorted Boxer out from the bar to who-knew-where?


	5. A More Outgoing Socks Anarchy?

**5**

_Rumors about Panther have circulated around downtown Daten in the past, some good some bad.  
Mostly bad... .  
The worst—that actually made the most sense—was that he was in league with, or more likely, the leader of a criminal syndicate.  
Why else would someone dressed in leathers and furs be slinking around in some sleazy neighborhood, if not for making shady business transactions?  
Boxer heard some of these rumors and thought nothing of them—rather he didn't understand the severity of them.  
Even if he could, he'd probably still think nothing of it.  
After all, he was a trained holy warrior, and could hold his own in a fist-fight, as he's proven time and time again.  
And what would the mafia want with him?  
He hasn't done anything for or against them, and neither has his brother... ._

Quite contrary to his elder brother's beliefs, Socks acquainted himself in and around Daten city.  
He never saw fit to tell Boxer about his relations—and why should he?  
What difference would it have made, truly?  
It wasn't his business, no matter what he said.  
However, there was legitimate reason for Boxer to believe that Socks was alone... .  
The man really was quite anti-social, no matter how many times he denounced those claims; the fact remained that he didn't like dealing with anyone any longer than he had to.  
Although, things were different now.  
Before, he didn't really have friends, per say.  
In the regard that he went out, and conversed in good nature and spirit with.  
Why would he need that?  
Really, _need _that?

In Heaven, Socks devoted his whole childhood to learning; he trained day in and day out with little rest.  
Even if he was finally resting his body, he would instead exercise his mind, until sleep crept upon, and stole him from his books.  
Drawn to swordplay, he spent hours training with his instructor, Archangel Alabaster. A man of whom Socks respected, greatly.  
Alabaster certainly lived up to his name, in that everything of his visage was pure and white. Much more handsome than Socks, than Boxer.  
So beautiful, both human men and women would utterly melt upon laying eyes on him.  
Socks once sought to exceed Alabaster and claim the title of archangel, himself... .  
More specifically, Socks sought "Perfection".  
Even though the humans regarded the Celestials as perfect beings already; but then, there was always going to be something better in the eyes of everyone.  
Really, to Socks, there was only one perfect being—besides the Absolute, that being God—and that perfect being was his father.

So in striving to achieve his goals, back then, he hadn't the time, nor the need (as he saw it) to build relationships with others.  
Boxer intruded upon his space, and was resolute—of his own accord.  
Socks tolerated his brother in much the same instance now.  
This was one of the many things he found he had no control over.  
Furthermore, it was so that Socks fell into depravity shortly after his brother had:  
Boxer looked down upon Earth and saw a human woman with blazing red hair, and gorgeous emerald-green eyes, and he lay with her.  
Once he had, he promptly became addicted to the pleasures sex had brought him.  
At the same time Socks treated his tongue to both earthly and Heavenly confections, and was then on obsessed with sweet flavor, and soft, fluffy, crunchy textures.  
Indulging themselves in these was what got them thrown out of Heaven, and Socks earned Alabaster's scorn.  
Of course, Socks had all but forgotten what he was striving for before then, too consumed in his own pleasures to care. His potential position as an archangel was forever lost to him.  
But following that, he became more introverted.  
That was, until he actually interacted with the students at Daten High.

Interestingly enough, Vanilla had much the same appearance as Alabaster—albeit dumbed down to a significant degree.  
The immediate difference were their eyes: Where Alabaster's was like that of crystal-ice, Vanilla had eyes of green.  
But it wasn't just Vanilla that Socks became fond of: Socks also took note of Nail and his valor; and more, he caught a glimpse at just how willing these kids were to go far for each other.  
The idea of spending time with, and getting to know these people really didn't bother Socks at all.  
So, he went ahead and agreed to hang out with Vanilla and his friends that evening.  
It might just be lingering gratitude for now, but maybe a true friendship could develop?  
Socks glanced down at Chuck, who was now sitting, surprisingly quietly, in his lap, completely devoid of injury.  
He was a fast healer.  
"Chuck..." Chuck gazed up at Socks in question.  
"...You can come with me." Socks said without realizing.  
"Chuck?"  
What possessed Socks to say such a thing?  
Well, maybe he really was in that good of a mood today, now that Boxer had left him alone.  
"I'm going out tonight... with friends," Socks hesitated to add. "You ought to get out too, Chuck, right? Exercise or something... Look, I'm being nice, you can come or you can stay!"  
"Chuck, chuck, chuck." Chuck slobbered and bounced.  
I guess that's a "yes," Socks thought, allowing himself a smirk.  
Socks grabbed Bones, who had been sitting quietly beside him, and got up with Chuck in his other hand.  
As Socks hooked the leash to Chuck's collar, Suspender's voice sounded and echoed throughout the church.  
"Uh-oh," Socks could only assume the worst.  
Of course, the only thing he could think of that would send Suspender in a rage this time, if not earlier, just yesterday, was the demand of her money to pay in expense to school property damage.  
If not, well, Socks didn't want to stick around and find out!  
"Come on, Chuck, we're leaving!"

Socks couldn't be sure what to expect upon exiting the church, and driving up to the mall to meet with Vanilla.  
He parked Mink in the lot and found Vanilla and two others posted at the entrance, awaiting his arrival.  
When he did he felt an imaginary stab in his gut and hesitated.  
He knew there would be others, so why was he suddenly nervous?  
What reason could Socks Anarchy have for being _nervous_!?  
He sighed and clutched at the cat doll in his arm, and squeezed around Chuck's leash with his other hand.  
Chuck drooled and his tail wagged ceaselessly, he promptly followed Socks's lead once the angel finally began walking again.  
As Socks drew nearer, he saw that Vanilla was in possession of, and leaning heavily upon a cane.  
"Is that leg broken?" Socks asked automatically, before noting the absence of a cast or brace.  
"Not likely," Vanilla shook his head and smiled. "It hurts like hell, but it's definitely not broken."  
"How can you be sure?"  
"I've had broken limbs before, but Ma insisted I should have this cane until she can schedule an appointment with a doctor."  
"Should you really be out and about then? What if you damage it further?"  
"You're starting to sound like her,"Socks became red at that, and turned his head. "I'll be fine."  
"Hey, Socks, remember me?" Said a young, honey-blond boy.  
Hardly, Socks thought.  
"Cotton, isn't it?"  
The boy brightened at this.  
"Yep!" Cotton turned to face the girl that stood beside him.  
"I'm sorry, I never quite got your name," Socks said.  
Beside Cotton stood a familiar face from homeroom.  
Though they exchanged very few pleasantries, Socks remembered she was supposedly part of the student council, while Strawberry Milk was president.  
"It's Candy. I'm Cotton's big sister," she said, with slight emphasis placed on "big".  
Chuck strained at the end of his leash, nipping at Candy's heels, causing the poor girl to yelp and seek shelter under her brother.  
"I apologize for his behavior, he's brain damaged," Socks said, nonchalant.  
"I see. I never pegged you as a dog person," Vanilla replied, matching Socks's emotionless tone and expression.  
"I'm not. Boxer is, although, I don't think Chuck was what he had in mind... completely." Socks looked on as Chuck relieved himself on the side of the building.  
"Let's hurry inside," Vanilla said, turning to enter with a lean and a limp. "Nail and Almond should be waiting at Mahogany's Pizzeria."

Socks rarely ever ate a variety of food, in favor of candy and pastries, but he did not object to eat anything else.  
Only, he just couldn't get much of the same level of enjoyment from other foods.  
Regardless, Socks went into Mahogany's Pizzeria without complaint.  
Nail and Almond were already seated at a booth in the back, they seemed like they were having a lot of fun, talking and laughing at each other's stupid stories and in-jokes.  
Socks paused in his step without knowing, watching them.  
"Socks?" Candy nudged at him.  
"Huh? Oh." Socks shook himself, strengthening his resolve.  
He would be joining these two soon. He would be part of a group, be seen with a group, at a Pizzeria in the mall no less.  
Could he really go through with this? Well, it would seem rude to back out now, and a gentleman always stays committed.  
Socks followed Vanilla, Cotton and Candy in long strides, practically going past them.  
Vanilla slipped into the booth beside Nail, swearing when he bumped his bad leg in doing so, propping his cane up and off to the side.  
"You all right there, Vanilla?" Nail sniggered.  
"Go to hell." Vanilla straightened himself up as he rolled his eyes.  
"'Scuse me for having a heart." Nail made an exaggerated gesture and chuckled, along with Cotton and Candy.  
"Oh, sure, laugh at my pain."  
Socks felt a little more comfortable to sit down with the rest.  
Chuck contented himself to jump back into Socks's lap, in response, Socks hoarded the napkins.  
They ordered a large pepperoni pizza in which they all agreed upon.  
Socks wasn't expecting too much from this meal, but something about Mahogany's pizza made it taste great.  
Not as great as fondue, or trifle, but enjoyable.  
"As Nail might have said before, we really don't know too much about you, Socks," Vanilla suddenly said at length.  
"—or your brother for that matter." Candy added.  
"Still pinning for him, are you?" Socks said in between a bite of pizza, to this, Candy became redder. "Again, I apologize. There really isn't much to say—but I suppose I could answer any questions you may have."  
"Is it hard being an angel?"  
"What's it like being an angel?"  
"Could I become an angel?"  
"How could YOU be an angel?"  
Candy, Cotton, Almond, and Nail (in that order) all said, practically in unison.  
Socks should have seen the "angel" thing coming, but he didn't think it would be _that_ immediate.  
"An angel..." Socks began, unsure of himself. "It isn't too hard to maintain status as an angel once you've obtained that much—however _obtaining_ as much is an entirely different story."  
"Ah, man," Almond groaned, disappointedly, to which, Socks smiled a rueful sort of smile.  
"There are two ways:" Socks continued, "You're either born of divine parents, or you ascend to divinity by arbitrary method."  
"'Arbitrary'?" inquired Vanilla.  
"I'd say so. It's ridiculous, from what I've bothered to see and hear," Socks saw that he should elaborate, based upon the curious looks he was receiving. "When I say 'arbitrary,' I mean your worth is judged by whatever you do in the eyes of the Celestials—those up in Heaven right now. Each have their own individual opinions, but most of them are rather snobbish, self-absorbed bastards, so good luck earning their graces."  
Ignoring that he too could be snobbish and self-absorbed.  
"Is Heaven really such a nice place, then?" Cotton leaned in, and Almond mirrored his worried expression.  
"It's... perfect." Socks didn't know how else he could have described it.  
"Meaning?" Nail saw fit to ask.  
"Whatever you perceive as 'perfection'. That could either be good or bad... Whatever perfect is, it isn't for me, otherwise I wouldn't be here now."  
Socks hadn't thought along these lines in a very long time in fact.  
"Perfect," Candy said dreamily.  
"You would want to be, wouldn't you?" Cotton lightly smacked her shoulder.  
"Well of course. If I were perfect, life would be so much easier to live, right Socks?" Candy turned to face him again.  
Apparently she hadn't really been listening, otherwise she wouldn't have asked him.  
"... Yes." Socks grimaced at his pizza, growing colder by the minute.  
Nail, noticing Socks' expression, coughed and said, "but this talk is telling us nothing about Socks himself."  
Socks could have almost been grateful—no, he really was grateful.  
"Right, so, what do you want to know?"  
"Well for starters... Just how old are you? It's obvious you're not high school age." Nail crossed his arms, staring intently.  
"How old do I appear to you?" Socks raised his eyebrows.  
"Twentyyyyy-... two?" Nail shrugged. It was a half-assed guess.  
"Twenty-two then."  
"...Wait, what?"  
"Age is a complicated thing for Celestials," Socks paused to think—recalling the angels and archangels he'd interacted with during his time in Heaven. He remembered those young-looking, and elderly. "You would see children and elders, but both could potentially be that much older than any living human on Earth. Some live to be so old that they've all but forgotten their ages. It doesn't matter to us."  
"But then... How old ARE you?" Candy asked, wide-eyed.  
"Hmm... Do you really want to know?" Socks smirked. "Keep in mind, Boxer is my OLDER brother."  
"Uhh... Never mind, then." Candy withdrew and stared squarely at the floor underneath the table.  
Socks had his laugh, but he realized that he went and wasted food he'd tolerated, as he was so into conversation, Chuck went and ate those slices.

"By the way, Candy..." Socks lifted his chin as a thought just happened to cross his mind.  
"Yes?"  
Candy held her hand up to yawn in a delicate sort of manner—or showy, however one chose to look at it.  
"I've wondered—well I am now that you're here in front of me—just what were you doing with Strawberry Milk back then?"  
Heads turned in Candy's direction, as apparently, Socks wasn't the only one who had wondered.  
Clearly he had the balls to actually ask her, though.  
"..." Candy heaved a mighty great sigh. "When Strawberry Milk was around she advocated strongly for student rights and equality—rather, gender equality. She was very opinionated and outspoken, and I admired that about her—a lot of people did—and gravitated toward her. She seemed like a natural-born leader if nothing else. Although I didn't agree 100% with everything she had to say, she held womankind up on a lofty pedestal, and made us feel all the more important."  
"Ah, well, then, I can see why you hung around her."  
"Don't misunderstand me, okay! I'm really not like her! I didn't know she was that much of a man-hater." Candy held her head down in shame.  
"It's all right, we're not blaming you for what she did," Vanilla said, reassuringly.  
"Yeah, that's right! We know you, Candy. Besides, it's not like you knew from the get-go that she was a ghost with an unreasonable vendetta against _man_-kind." Cotton said with a little less tact.  
"I can't help but wonder why she hated men like that—and so much! I mean... You know?" Almond mused, holding his head up by both hands, elbows on the table.  
"Hm, well, she could have held in the scorn of many women who were wronged by one man or another," Socks said, matter-of-fact.  
"What do you mean?" Candy perked up in interest.  
"As I've read, Ghosts could simply be manifestations of hatred or grief. Any negative emotions felt by a multitude of people in the vicinity."  
"Ohhhhh, yeah, that explains a lot!" Almond giggled cheerily, satisfied with the answer, and dimpling as he did.  
"Nnngh..." Nail made a noise and turned his head, looking as if he were cramping.  
As a result of finding Almond just all around cute, no doubt.  
Socks beamed, but he couldn't really explain why.  
Perhaps it was just that a display of this sort of puppy-love, in place of Boxer's short-winded flings, made him appreciate it all the more.  
It made him happy, to say the least.

Socks returned home, feeling somewhat mixed about his previous outing with Daten High's students.  
Vanilla he still held in favor, valuing his opinion and company. With Nail, Socks found he respected the boy more than he liked him, personally.  
He chuckled as he recalled Candy, and Cotton and Almond.  
They were cute, but Candy bordered on obnoxious, and he figured she and Boxer would get along well enough.  
He found her search for validation in the wrong places, also, rather typical of a girl her age.  
Speaking of Boxer, though, where the hell was he? Socks walked into the front room, expecting to find Boxer passed out in front of the TV, but it was turned off, and there was no mess, or Boxer sprawled and snoring on the couch as there usually was.  
There were two possibilities: Either he was out with some hooker, or he got himself into some deep shit.  
Socks figured the former, but the latter was still a possibility, so—and it took a lot of doing—he reached into his pocket after placing Chuck into his sleeping bed next to the couch, and went upstairs while holding his cell he'd fished out to his ear.

"Hello. Who is this?" came a deep, yet very unfamiliar voice.  
It was cheery in attitude, as if something very good had happened recently.  
Socks stopped at the landing and remained quiet in contemplation.  
What was some man—other than his brother—doing answering his brother's cellphone?  
How did the cellphone come to be in this mystery man's possession?  
Where was Boxer right now?  
Socks's eyes gradually became wider as he continued this line of thought. It came to Cocoa, and Boxer's previous encounter with "her," eventually.  
But it wouldn't get off, until it came to the forbidden "maybe" that Socks joked about not too long ago.  
"Hello?" came the voice a second time.  
"What are you doing picking up my brother's cell?" Socks tried keeping his tone even, but it sounded angry, to Socks's own horror.  
"Oh, so you're the other angel, then?"  
"...What of it?"  
The man responded, but his response was drowned out by the literal shock and scream that came from behind Socks.  
Socks went, two steps at a time, back into the front room where he found Chuck charcoaled and twitching.  
"I hope that isn't too much of a problem, then, Mr. Anarchy," the voice said, bringing Socks back down to Earth.  
"...'Problem'?"  
"Why, your brother being away with me for... oh, I think it may be two weeks... possibly."  
"_What_ will be 'two weeks,' Mr...?" Socks knelt down beside Chuck, cautiously reaching for the slip of paper the zipper dog vomited up, as if it would burn him as well.  
"Panther, and, well... That's how long I'll need to keep him for."  
"Panther..." Socks knew that name. Boxer mentioned it once or twice, but this time it spurred interest, and unrest on top of that. "I'll need to know where you'll be keeping him."  
"Do you really? I got the impression that you two didn't care for what the other did in his personal life."  
"And I get the impression that my dear brother has gotten himself involved with elephant dung. Now tell me where he is, asswipe, before _I _find you _both_."  
"Hmm... You can try. In fact, do that. We'll be waiting."  
With that, the call ended before Socks could have said any more.  
He lowered his phone and glanced between it and the message from above.  
"... _GODDAMMIT_!"  
"Keep it down! Can't a lady get her beauty rest!?" was Suspender's response to Socks's sudden outburst.  
Socks began pacing. He would have to work hard to put that hole in the ground, though.  
Chuck kept at his heels, once he'd recovered from being broiled by lightning.  
Socks had been debating with himself, as he walked, whether or not he should call the Ginger Geek to aid him.  
I mean, Boxer really could have just decided he would try a piece of man-butt for himself after all, Socks thought. Hardly! No, this Panther character must have forced Boxer into... something.  
Perhaps Panther was keeping Boxer as a bondage sex slave, making him walk on all-fours, and only respond with bark and whine. Wait, hold on now! That was Socks's gay fantasy! ...  
Granted, that was his straight fantasy as well.  
The more Socks would dwell upon the probability of Boxer being enslaved, the more angry he became, and just a little bit envious.  
No! Now was not the time to think like that! After all, he couldn't go out around town with a raging boner (that was more Boxer's department).  
Socks held the clue back up to view. In brown letters this time was the word "Egg".  
"What? Is this ghost going to make me fear for the contents of my meal like the last?" Socks growled and crumpled the paper in his fist. "Do ghosts just not care about what we angels like to gorge ourselves on?!" He shouted to no one in particular.  
Well Chuck was there; the zipper dog inclined his head and perked an ear.  
"It looks like I have no choice after all," Socks reached for his phone yet again and dialed Knickers's.  
_Ring... ring... ring...  
_"Hello?"  
"Hello, Ginger."  
"Socks? Socks is that really you? What're you doing calling me?" Knickers sounded so genuinely surprised that Socks nearly felt bad.  
Nearly.  
"I need use of your ghost-tracking device."  
"The Proton Pack!" Knickers said.  
"Yes, that."  
"I don't know, it's getting rather late, and I don't know if I should be going out now."  
"Then I'll come over to your house and get the damn thing for myself," Socks tried to keep calm, but it was becoming clear in his voice how irritated he was.  
"I—! Ah, all right."  
"... Sorry for this." Socks added as sort of an afterthought.  
"Chuck?" Chuck angled his head the other way this time.  
"No, not this time, you'd only get in the way, Chuck." Socks went by to his bedroom, feeling he ought to get a change of clothes.

But before he did that, Socks fetched his laptop and opened his browser, seeing if he could find any more information on this "Panther" character.  
What he found didn't come as too much of a shock to him, but what in the world would Boxer be doing with the mafia? Money was the only thing that came to mind, but was he really so desperate?  
It was dirty human money, what worth was it, really?  
Heaven Coin was what they really needed. Whatever, either this Panther was the ghost in question, or he was, at the very least, in league with the one they—well, Socks—needed to defeat this time around.  
"He'd better thank me for this," Socks mumbled, getting up and throwing on a striped dress shirt and dark vest.  
With it he also wore black trousers and heeled boots. He stood in front of his full-body mirror, mulling himself over. Did this really work well? It looked good on him. Well, Socks figured, anything would look good on him anyway, even women's clothing. Of course, thinking that, he thought instantly of the cross-dresser jab Boxer took at him, then he wondered if he really should be trying so hard for his brother after all?  
"He'd _really _better thank me for this!" Socks exclaimed, throwing on a jacket, as the days were steadily growing that much colder.  
Just before he went back out, he looked back at his reflection in the mirror and fingered a strand of his longer hair.

"No, he's not going to thank me at all..."


	6. Some Serious Ghost Hunting part 1

**6**

Knickers gave Socks the directions he needed, just as Socks recalled that he would probably need those, wouldn't he?  
"205, it was," he said it for the tenth, possibly eleventh time, as he drove Mink down the slope and out of the suburbs, into the city.  
Well one thing was for sure: Boxer couldn't say that Socks didn't get around anymore, not after tonight.  
Socks hoped it would only take this night to find the bastard... .

Once he had arrived, Socks approached Knickers's apartment somewhat warily.  
What nightmares awaited him as he came to enter her room? Well, he was about to find out.  
He knocked thrice on her door, and with only a slight delay, the door opened revealing...  
"...Cherub?" Socks uttered breathlessly, carefully regarding who he could only assume was Knickers.  
But then, she was the spitting image of that human woman he knew millennium ago; that one who took an angel's virginity, and further corrupted him with her feminine wiles.  
Hair red like fire—no, burnt orange—and eyes like emerald—no, Knickers's eyes were a less brilliant green, brilliant though they still were.  
Socks shook his head, having to remind himself that the long-dead Cherub was just that: Long _dead_.  
"Who's Cherub?" Innocent, yet under-dressed, Knickers had asked.  
"Nobody," Socks blinked himself back to reality and looked at Knickers again, and this time he could only see the ways in which her and Cherub's appearances contrasted from each other.  
For one thing, Knickers's skin was paler, and thus, further highlighting the freckles riddling it here and there; on her face was where they were most prominent.  
Cherub's skin, on the other hand, was tanned and unblemished.  
And where Knickers's hair was orange and wavy, Cherub's was very red and very straight.  
Not to mention their height differences—Cherub being the taller one of the two.  
"Now that I think about it, you two look nothing alike."  
"I, is that a compliment or an insult?" Knickers hesitated to ask.  
"Both." Socks let himself in, and looked over Knickers's front room.

Overall, it was standard.  
There were a few odd nick-knacks strewn about—and a big lump of white fur that turned out to be a lazy, fat cat.  
The TV was turned on to some low-budget horror movie, with stop-motion sculptures for the monsters that were admittedly disturbing in their own right.  
It wasn't the kind of house Socks expected of a teenaged human girl, that's for sure.  
"...Sooooo if you need the Proton Pack, I guess that only means there's another ghost afoot!" Knickers said excitedly, in a way that made as if she'd deduced some great mystery.  
Socks turned back to face her, and thought that she herself was in high contrast to the beige and chocolate brown of the walls and furniture of the room.  
She wore tight-fitting _Scooby Doo_ pajamas, but they were probably only tight because they were getting to be too small for her.  
Especially around her bust, which was threatening to pop a button or two.  
So not only was she heavy in hips, Knickers also had a pair of Knockers.  
"Uhm... Yes, that's right." Socks held his head, as if he had a headache.  
Good Lord, was he becoming like his brother, slowly but surely? Knickers's curious expression at Socks's behavior was further arousing—seemingly _mocking_.  
She _knew _he was coming around here. Surely she must have known just how provocative that kind of dress was!  
In front of a hot-blooded young male angel—wait, ..._ANGEL_!  
Upon realizing the obvious—that he and his brother were _nothing _alike in both appearance and personality—she probably didn't think too much about it.  
She probably thought that Socks was a far more dignified man, and would not let himself be bothered by something as measly as a human girl in her pajamas.  
Socks straightened his back and coughed in attempt to regain his composure. Why should it ever have been lost to begin with!?  
"Are you okay, Socks? I could get you a glass of water if you want." Knickers leaned in a little closer, unwittingly teasing Socks with a view of her bountiful, freckly cleavage.  
"Water would be nice...!"  
_Anything_ to keep her away for now...  
"Okay, I'll be right back!" She made an all-too-eager dash for the kitchen.  
Socks groped blindly as he watched her leave, eventually he found the sofa and sat down on it, sighing as he did so.  
It felt as though he'd just got back from running a marathon.  
While Knickers took her time in the kitchen, Socks rubbed his eyelids in mild contemplation, startled shortly thereafter by the presence of Knickers's cat, who seemed to have taken an instant liking to him.  
"Hm," Socks picked up the cat, and was startled to see it go limp in his hands. "Oh, shit, I killed her cat..."  
"WHAT!" Knickers overheard and shrieked, which caused her to jolt and thus spill the water she had just got for Socks.  
After a few seconds, she calmed down, however.  
"O-oh no, she does that—she's a Ragdoll."  
"Excuse me?" Socks tilted his head in obvious confusion.  
"She's a breed of cat called a Ragdoll... T, they relax when you pick them up, that's where they get their name."  
Talking about her cat seemed to do her even more good, but then she realized that the water had soaked through her pajamas and apologized profusely for the mishap.  
"It's fine," Socks said, focused exceedingly on the simple task of setting the cat back down on the floor.  
"Right... I really should change." Knickers went back out, forgetting that she had a half-empty glass of water in her hand.  
Socks waited for a couple minutes for her, then raised his eyebrows at Knickers's choice of clothes when she returned.  
She was dressed to go out, in hunter-green pants and jacket.  
"You look surprised," she said, moving her arms behind her back and swaying quite girlishly.  
Her hair fell in front like it had when they'd first met, concealing her pretty green eyes.  
That jacket didn't do any favors for her bosom either, making it appear average at best.  
"You're dressed differently—I mean, like you're coming with me," Socks said with his nose in the air.  
"Ohhhh! You have to let me come with you!" Knickers begged, clasping her hands in front of herself. "I want to help you and Boxer beat up ghosts this time!"  
There was a drawn out silence at the mention of Boxer.  
"Hey..." she said, "just where is Boxer anyway?"  
"Gone," Socks stood abruptly, startling the cat in the process. "Probably got his sorry ass captured by the ghost."  
"Wait... w, wait... That doesn't sound right..." Knickers held her head down.  
"It does to me." Socks said bitterly.  
"So then... I guess that's why you sounded angry when you called me, huh?"  
"Huh!?" Socks scowled at her. "Absolutely not! Why would I be angry my brother's been captured? He deserves whatever's coming to him for being the ignorant, hopeless man-ho he is!"  
"..." Knickers simply stared at him, fighting back a knowing smile.  
"Anyway... You're not coming with me."  
"Oh, I'm afraid I am." Knickers said, placing her hands haughtily on her hips.  
"What, Ginger?" Socks narrowed his eyes at her.  
"The Proton Pack activates via voice command. _I _tell it what to do." Knickers giggled. "You need it, don't you? Well, you'll have to bring me along for the ride if you want it to function at all."  
"You little—!"  
"Eep! Don't hurt me!" Knickers flinched and held her hands out to defend any blow Socks would throw at her.  
Socks snorted, insulted.  
He would never hit a woman—human woman. Especially if they couldn't possibly defend themselves.  
Instead, Socks approached her calmly, gently lowering her hands from her face.  
"I guess I have no choice, Ginger," Socks sighed. "Just stay your ass out of trouble... for my sake?" he paused for a moment to think. "Maybe you can treat me to a snack later."  
By Lord Almighty he was going to get _SOMETHING_ out of this ordeal.  
"Oh, um... O-okay..."

...

Knickers couldn't resist flapping her gums the whole way there, once they had gone out.  
Socks bit back his own words and pretended to listen as the ghost detector did its work.  
But aside from the fact that Knickers was a born chatterbox, Daten was a large city to explore, and Boxer and the ghost could have been anywhere.  
Hell, they might not have even been in the city, as far as they could tell.  
Mink was built for speed and durability, but Socks figured the jeep wasn't nearly fast enough to escape _this_ threat.  
That Proton-Detector-Package-Thing-a-Ma-jigger was faulty at best.  
Sure, the thing helped them to find Strawberry Milk when it did, but that had been in an enclosed area, so they were bound to find her shortly.  
Socks couldn't be all too sure about this—and Knickers's constant yapping was, as he predicted, grating on his nerves.  
For two whole hours they searched, until, _finally_, Socks stood, bemused beyond all hell, in front of a seemingly abandoned warehouse.  
This was the last place Socks expected to end up at, and he seemed quite ready to leave.  
"Where are you going?" Knickers asked him as Socks strayed further and further away from where the Proton Pack indicated.  
Socks didn't answer her as he ventured over to a second, neighboring warehouse building, and then the next, disappearing out of sight.  
Knickers stood stock-still, conflicted with herself.  
She could try and find him but the Proton Pack was insisting the ghost was in this particular warehouse, bleeping incessantly as it were.  
She glanced over her shoulder at Mink, then back at the warehouse, stuck between.  
She could try and drive Mink away in an attempt to escape a bad situation, OR! she could march her way right on inside and confront the ghost and rescue Boxer on her own!  
The latter seemed far more appealing to her, and just as she was mustering the courage to follow suit, Socks reappeared in an instant, emerging from the shadows like a spectral ghost himself.  
"_EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH_!" Knickers squealed.  
"Shut up," Socks whacked her upside her silly ginger head. "We're going inside."  
"W, w, where WERE you? You just up and left me here!"  
"I did a quick check of the perimeter... What I found was... odd."  
Socks did not elaborate on the matter, instead he zipped his jacket closed and straightened his back more, in preparation to head inside the foreboding warehouse.  
"W, wait for me!" Knickers tripped and stumbled in after him, following the Goth Angel's lead.  
"Be quiet, will you?" Socks whispered desperately.  
Socks could sense something was wrong here too, very wrong.  
On his walk around outside, he came across peculiar clumps of silk—cobwebs littered everywhere.  
It would not have been out of the ordinary if there weren't massive bunches everywhere he looked, as if a thousand diligent spiders set to work on a project to cover the entire area in a web.  
But spiders don't work like that—he was pretty damned sure they didn't, at least.  
As he pondered this, he slowly began to realize the sweat trickling down his face and neck.  
It was far hotter and more humid in here than outside. Which was purely ridiculous.  
It was egging on winter just outside, and in here it felt like the dead of summer.  
Socks had no choice but to remove his jacket.  
Knickers shed her own jacket and tied it around her waist by the sleeves, whereas Socks made to toss his away like trash; until he saw Knickers's alternative and followed her example instead.  
Knickers noticed this, and gave him a smile, which he promptly ignored.

They walked along the aisles in silence.  
The further they went in, the darker their surroundings became.  
Knickers fumbled about with her Proton Pack, sounding as if she was having a wrestling match with it, until a light came on.  
"That thing certainly has many uses..." Socks mumbled absently.  
"Yep! Handy, isn't it?" Knickers said, giving her multifunctional 'Pack a fond pat on its side before putting it back on.  
After which they continued their journey, feeling as if they'd stumbled upon and into a jungle, rather than a warehouse.  
Were warehouses really this hot? Socks had never been in one.  
He figured there would be some sort of insulation, or fans, or _something_ to regulate the temperature.  
But that wouldn't do very much, considering just outside there was already a need for jackets and coats.  
Something was manipulating the temperature inside, something otherworldly—supernatural.  
There was definitely a ghost here. Socks had to hand it to the Ginger Geek... again.  
Her machine worked, and well, he hated to admit it.  
As Knickers shone the light every which way, its glow revealed there to be an absurd amount of cobwebs and gossamer coating the brackets and crates aligned on either side of them.  
And then below, it almost seemed as if the webs were encroaching upon them on the walls and floor.  
Knickers trembled and shook in panic.  
From afar, the webbing almost seemed like snow cover, and it was this Knickers told herself to keep her nerves better.  
Regardless, she kept damn well where she was.

It just so happened Knickers had an innate fear of spiders.  
She could handle bugs. In fact she very much liked insects! They fascinated her. Beetles and roaches especially.  
She could even stomach the dreaded snake and caterpillar.  
But no. _Not_ spiders!  
It was just something about the eight-legged menace she just could not handle.  
The mere sight of them chilled her right down to the bone.  
Maybe the fear was caused by some childhood trauma? She didn't know, all she knew was that she was terrified of the little monsters, and she wanted _nothing _to do with them!  
While Knickers remained standing, shaking in her boots in the very same spot, Socks went on ahead to examine the mess closer.  
He tried the webs with his hand; tough, pliant, non-stick.  
The first two were to be expected, but wasn't the point to stick? Unless he were to diverge a bit from the norm, in which case, huntsman, and funnel-web spiders came to mind.  
But the first of those did not build webs, and these webs here didn't seem beneficial to a funnel spider.  
It didn't seem to benefit any spider, considering all it really did was encase the thing it was mounted on.  
The only time any spider would do that, was if it was building an egg sac for its young.  
Wait... Egg. _EGG_!  
"Shit..."  
"WHAT!" Knickers yelped, to which Socks urgently shushed her.  
Too late.  
A thousand and one spiders of sizable nature emerged from the depths of the warehouse and came at them, bearing the hues typical of your rudimentary ghost.

**_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!_**

Socks clasped one hand to Knickers's mouth to keep her the fuck quiet, as he threw off his boot and hurriedly transformed his sock into a longsword to defend himself with.  
"Stay back, Ginger!"  
Socks swung at the few spiders close enough, hacking off their frontal legs and slicing through their heads.  
He kicked one back to buy himself some time to grab at his other sock and turn that one into another longsword, to which he dual-wielded to protect Knickers and his own hide.  
"There are too many of them!" Knickers said after a while, stating the obvious.  
"Run you nitwit!" Socks backed into her and shoved her in the direction opposite of the on-coming horde.  
"But what about you?!"  
Socks glanced back at her as if she'd lost her mind, but urged her with his back still, locking the blades of his longsword together in a purely defensive stance.  
"Don't worry about me... _human_." Socks enunciated "human" to emphasize the difference between them.  
He'd likely survive this ordeal if he lost, it didn't take a genius to figure that much out.  
But something about the way he said "human" just rubbed Knickers the wrong way.  
So, even though she was shaking, clacking her knees together in a disturbing and audible manner, she readied a nozzle crudely attached to her Proton backpack, and directed it at the horde of oncoming spiders. She shut her eyes as she pressed a button with her thumb, and discharged massive amounts some turquoise liquid.  
The smell of it wasn't at all revolting. It was quite minty fresh~  
"... Toothpaste?" Socks gaped and stared wide-eyed as the hose sprayed a seemingly endless amount of toothpaste on the offending spiders, and shockingly, they were downed in minutes.  
The spiders were alive—of course, it was only toothpaste—but there was so much of it that it rendered them either immobile, or sluggish.  
Some were even stuck to each other.  
"That... sort of worked..." Knickers declared, finally opening her eyes.  
"I... What the fuck are you doing with that much toothpaste, Ginger? How? Why? Just... 'The FUCK!?" Socks was looking at this from every possible angle, and still he couldn't make sense of it.  
"I keep forgetting to buy the essentials sometimes..." Knickers admitted sheepishly. "It's because I'm so caught up in researching the paranormal, and inventing new gadgets to help with that research. A friend suggested, after I got the initial Proton Pack, that I make it into an All-in-One—"  
"That's... enough. I get the gist of it." Socks shook his head, not understanding it at all.  
"**_OhmyGodsomeofthemarestillmoving_**!" Knickers exclaimed, and hurriedly jumped back.  
"Well of course, it's only toothpaste," Socks shook his head, "but they shouldn't be able to catch up with us if we just keep moving."  
With that Socks grabbed Knickers's arm and pulled her away from the ghostly spiders.  
"Ghost spiders, really?" Socks muttered in disbelief as they continued in another direction, onwards.  
"Yeah, why couldn't they be... I dunno... ghost puppies instead?" Knickers asked, sighing hopelessly.  
"Because ratings would plummet if the main cast were brutalizing puppies. We'd be receiving hatemail, and complaints from PETA and the general populace, no doubt about it."  
"...Well yeah, if you're gonna take it _that _serious..." Knickers shuddered.  
"I wish you wouldn't make such stupid comments in the first place," Socks shook his head. "Anyway, when it's that many spiders, there's usually a leader, or at the very least a mother (Knickers made a noise of utter horror at the prospect). Believe it or not, some species of spiders are actually rather social and can work together for their benefit. However, I don't think these ghost spiders follow every rule. If the Message from Above is anything to go on, I can only surmise that these spiders' only goal is to reproduce, indefinitely."  
"_Ewwwww_!"  
"I'll have to agree with you on that one," Socks eventually found a corner devoid of silk and sat down.  
He sighed and turned to face Knickers.  
"I'm no pushover, but even I can't handle vast numbers like that," he sighed. "Listen, I have to ask you a question..."  
"Y-yes?" Knickers was hesitant to sit beside Socks, but did so, forever wary of her current surroundings.  
After all, they were basically sitting in a nest of giant ghost spiders.  
"What do you know of a man named 'Panther'?"  
"Panther? Not much," she looked thoughtful for a moment. "...If it's the Panther I'm thinking of, he used to do business with my father, but they had differing opinions. Fighting happened … After that, I never really saw him again, but I heard some things..."  
"I see... Well... one way or another, it seems this Panther is involved in this mess. And I can only assume that he's holding Boxer captive somewhere. If not here, then around here."  
"Huh? But... That just doesn't make any sense, Socks! I mean, Boxer's an angel!"  
"... I'm afraid to say that if Panther is human, then there isn't much Boxer can do against him," he scoffed. "If he commands an army of spiders as big as the horde we just escaped from, or bigger, I can't see Boxer standing much of a chance."  
"If Panther is a human... So then... Boxer can't hurt humans?" Knickers nodded to herself. "I can understand that."  
"Oh, he can 'hurt' humans—I hear he likes to brawl for whatever reason," Socks couldn't help but roll his eyes. "However, our weapons do nothing against them. They were designed to harm the corrupt and the damned. Of course, the only one fit to actually judge us all in the end is God Himself. But if Boxer were to kill a human—a single human—he would forever be lost, and will never reenter the gates of Heaven."  
Socks grunted and got to his feet once again.  
"I just needed a break..." he says, sighing and running his hands through his hair.  
It was so incredibly hot upstairs, that he was considering hacking off the inches recently gained with his longsword.  
"Anyway, he and I still have our chance, and that's why we're fighting. Our only goal is to return to Heaven, and to do that we must dispose of the ghosts that plague Daten City. Understand?"  
Socks looked at her, expectantly.  
"You two are a little more selfish than I thought..." Knickers said, but there wasn't any clear contempt in her voice.  
She seemed willing to accept this news, and as she too got up, she seemed just as willing to help Socks accomplish this.  
"You're a weird one..." Socks said, then shrugged. "Come on, he must be around here somewhere."

"I'm right behind you!"

To be continued...


	7. Some Serious Ghost Hunting part 2

**7**

_Heaven was a place of a wide expanse of silver and gold; translucent archways, and towers made to withstand virtually anything.  
There were rivers and fountains of flowing, crystal clear water—a special few of honey and of wine.  
The clouds hovered nearer to the ground, all around; so near in fact that an angelic child could have reached out a hand and feel wet water droplets on his fingertips.  
Heaven was, as anyone would expect it to be, a paradise—beyond even mortal imagination.  
Although... it almost seemed empty at times.  
Spacious as it was, there were just so few residents. That was due to the fact that so few ever made it to Heaven anymore, and, though the Anarchy brothers were unaware at the time, there were many angels who fell from grace and were ultimately cast down to an earthly—sometimes hellish—prison... .  
But it was here that Boxer could recall the time he spent; traversing walkways paved with pure gold, bathed in calm, almost-constant light.  
As a child he was as curious and as innocent as any other—the apple of his mother's eye.  
But, of course, when Socks arrived things began to change... .  
Socks had been born with their father's likeness, and grew up under different, harsher circumstances.  
There were times where Boxer tried coaxing his kid brother to play with him; offering his toys and whatnot.  
What was strange to Boxer was that Socks seemed wholly uninterested, if not that, then he seemed confused by the welcoming, friendly gestures.  
It was like he didn't even understand the concept of fun, and that led to several days spent awkwardly between the two.  
Often Boxer felt reluctant to get close to Socks, but then, he learned that persistence got him most things he wanted, as it had before.  
The years went on, and Boxer and Socks developed the kind of love/hate relationship they had with each other now.  
It seemed as good as things were ever going to get between the two, and Boxer figured he could live with that much.  
But then, something came between them that eventually led to their getting booted from Heaven, down to Earth:  
Boxer fell in love.  
Not with another angel, but with a mortal woman named Cherub, and she was a diamond.  
With beauty to rival that of any angel woman.  
But she was wicked.  
She lured Boxer into bed with her and took his virginity, and went on to seduce Socks in turn, treating him to foods he had never had before in Heaven.  
She warped Boxer's mind, and Socks's tongue, and continued to tease the boys until time aged her, and then took her away from this world.  
She certainly didn't end up in Heaven, and so the logical assumption was that she was cast below into the fiery pits of Hell.  
But by then, the Angel Brothers were too far gone, and were promptly cast out of Heaven and down to Earth, with only the one chance to redeem themselves..._

_**I, for one, can't wait to see how they fuck that up.**_

Boxer was dreaming...  
It was rare for him to have dreams about the past anymore, he thought he had banished those memories long ago.  
When he woke up, he was surprised to find his limbs tied, and he felt like utter shit.  
Well, the shit part wasn't so much a surprise by now, he often woke up feeling like shit after a night out, with a hangover or nagging lay.  
This was a hangover, yes, but there was a lot more to it this time.  
He tried his restraints and was again surprised to find that he actually couldn't break them.  
"What the fuck...?"  
Try as he might, he just couldn't get free, and in the end he only succeeded in tiring himself out.  
"Who's fucking with me?!"  
Boxer gritted his teeth as he struggled to remember events leading up to this point.  
He had to calm himself down in order to think straight, but it was hard.  
He took several deep, cleansing breaths, and radiated a bit of Holy energy to help him along.  
In doing so, however, he found himself dripping with exhaustion mere seconds later.  
"What the _hell_?" Boxer fought to lift and angle his head to try and gauge his restraints properly.  
He couldn't be sure, but he speculated that these chains, whatever they were, were zapping his strength whenever he tried to exert any.  
Boxer came to immediate conclusion that this had to be the work of a ghost. It just _had_ to be.  
"You got some nerve whoever you are. Show yourself so I can beat your ass! You really have no idea who you're messing with, you bastard!"  
Well, obviously they did, but they didn't have to know that...  
"You are so loud," said a wholly unfamiliar voice, somewhere from Boxer's left.  
"Yes, and he is rather vulgar, isn't he?" A second, more masculine voice said in agreement.  
"Who are you? Let me out of here already!" Boxer said, turning and snarling at silhouettes behind glass windows.  
There were three shadows in total, one he thought he recognized.  
"Panther? Panther, is that you?!"  
"...It is. How are you feeling, Boxer?" That really was Panther's voice, sounding so sickeningly smug.  
"What did you do to me, you pussy bastard!?"  
"I did nothing to you, boy. You drunk yourself into a stupor."  
"You're shitting me..." Boxer spat, then cringed as his head was pounding. "Why the hell am I tied up here? WHERE am I?!"  
Boxer looked all around himself, trying to get a better feel for his surroundings, but everything was shrouded in thick, unnatural darkness.  
The darkness unsettled him, both mentally and physically. Was it a ghost's darkness?  
Or something more sinister?  
"I had a call from your brother," Panther spoke suddenly, startling Boxer back to attention.  
"Socks? Where is he? What did you do to him!?"  
"I did nothing to him. He's coming here to rescue you as we speak." Panther said.  
Boxer contorted his face to express his utter confusion at this ludicrous statement.  
Socks? Coming to rescue him?  
It took eons to fully register.  
"Aw, how indubitably maudlin," said one of the two others. Panther's men no doubt.  
After all, Panther was part of some syndicate or whatever.  
"Excuse me, but I was led to believe that these putrid, malodorous angel siblings despised one another." That silhouette shrugged his shoulders.  
It struck Boxer as odd that they were so well-spoken (or just abusive of the Thesaurus). Weren't thugs... thugs? Like, uneducated and unethical?  
Well, with his experience with Panther, they had some code of honor, or at least, Panther did.  
These guys should have tea and crumpets with Socks, Boxer found himself thinking with a crooked kind of smirk.  
He refused to call it any sort of coping mechanism.  
"I suppose if nothing else, even I would risk my well-being for the sake of my darling brother in much the same fashion. But the situation at hand does not cause for such risky business."  
The shadows began to depart.  
"Be a good boy for us, Beater, and we will not have to resort to violence."  
"Such a malpractice, violence. All matters ought to be settled with a bit of sport. There's simply no need to draw weapons when one can use one's natural ability and mind."  
They went on chatting like this and then _click_.  
"Wait... Wait! Get me out of these pissing chains, you cock-sucking whore monkeys! ..."  
Boxer continued stringing colorful, animal-related slurs together to no one.  
Ignored, but not forgotten.

…

Knickers went along with Socks, walking as closely as she could without tripping him up.  
She remained ever-vigilant and trembling; scared that another ghost spider would come springing out at them to encase them in webs, and liquify their innards to have for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  
She yelped and squeaked at every little sound that, at every time, turned out to be absolutely nothing.  
Needless to say, Socks was annoyed.  
"Would you stop that?"  
"I'm sorry, I'm just... S-s-spiders just s-s-scare the crap outta me!" Knickers stammered weakly.  
If Socks was anyone else he would have comforted her.  
As a self-respecting gentleman he was so inclined; while also exercising firmness.  
This could have very well been a life-or-death situation, and again, as a gentleman he should have just left her home and sorted things out himself.  
But that damned machine of hers... It was the only way he could have known that this complex of warehouses was the ghosts' nest.  
He hadn't the faintest idea how to operate the blasted thing himself on that note, even if it did respond to his command.  
"If you aren't quiet they'll surely find us and make a meal out of us. Do you want that?" Socks paused to tell, and fix her with an aggravated look.  
"N...no." Knickers replied timidly.  
"Hush then. I'm right here." Socks did not offer his hand, but Knickers nodded and took it anyway.  
He sighed but did not push her away, and they continued on their un-merry way.  
As they did, they discovered that this warehouse was much bigger than it seemed—and there's something to be said, as it seemed fairly huge on the outside.  
The ghosts present might have warped it to their liking.  
It was around now, though, that Socks began to seriously ponder the ghosts' make-up.  
Socks was certain he had downed several spider hatchlings, but they yielded no coin. They didn't even combust spectacularly as they were meant to when felled by Heavenly blade.  
Obviously they must have been made of something different.  
Socks found that he had to be mindful of where he stepped as he mused.  
The floor seemed weak around this area, and as such, there must have been a lower level.  
That, and Knickers's own legs kept the threat of tripping him over.  
He was pulled away from his thoughts... And downward—quite physically—after a little while, though.  
He gasped in surprise and looked back as he heard the floor gave way only a few steps behind him, and Knickers's shriek followed right after.  
That didn't take long at all... .  
"Socks!" She shrilled, hanging onto his hand for dear life.  
"Goddammit, Ginger!" Socks swore loudly, not meaning to.  
Sure enough, they heard the chilling skitter and patter of a thousand insectile legs hurrying their way to surround them.  
Socks looked up all around him and saw them coming from all sides.  
There was no way out.  
"Socks, please!" Knickers cried desperately, crying literal tears.  
"Grr..." Socks had to think, but every way he looked at it, the situation seemed utterly hopeless.

Now, Socks Anarchy wasn't quite a man of action.  
Of course, he took extensive training in swordplay, and had good control of his Holy power, but he knew a good warrior must keep a level head.  
Good judgment was key to everything.  
He always searched for the most logical answer, and sought it for the most reasonable outcome—he was not one to take risks if he could help it.  
That was his brother's forte: To just charge in recklessly and ask questions later.  
Socks just couldn't stand his brother's antics, and becoming his brother was something Socks simply dreaded above all else.  
Maybe not quite as much as he was dreading not being able to return to Heaven, but it was certainly up there on his list.  
But as Socks looked into Knickers's poor, pleading eyes he felt a twinge of guilt, and, oddly, compulsion—Compelled to risk to save the life of an innocent, as any angel would have.  
As any gentleman would have.

"God. Damn. It. KNICKERS!" Socks used his might to hoist her up, but as he did, he dived down into the hole she would have fallen in had he not.  
"AH!" Knickers, panicked, clung to Socks as tight as she could.  
Socks angled himself mid-fall much like a cat would have, so that when they made impact he would land on his back, taking the fall for her and risking injury in turn.

_For her. _

"Socks?" Knickers's voice cracked.  
She was hurt, but not terribly.  
Very shook from her recent experience.  
Even more when she saw Socks just lay there in concrete and wooden debris, not moving.  
"Socks, wake up!" She said, nudging him incessantly.  
Surely a fall like that couldn't really harm an angel?  
"... Didn't I tell you to be silent?" Socks murmured, eyes still closed.  
Knickers let out a heavy sigh of relief and rested her head on his shoulder.  
They lay there for quite a while, in silence.  
Enough of a while for it to get awkward for Knickers.  
She couldn't tell what Socks was thinking, but at least he was all right and alive.  
Not that she doubted he was! She just had to be sure he wasn't hurt... .  
"These ghost spiders..." Socks began, calling Knickers's attention back onto himself. "They're different. They can be slaughtered, but they don't yield reward, or explode as any other ghost would, fallen by my sword or Boxer's bullets."  
"So... What does that mean?"  
"It means there's no point in killing these mooks," Socks groaned, sitting up, finally. "There is a queen—their mother. I'm certain of it now. And if she's gone the rest should fall too... Or else, we'd be spending days taking out every single one of her offspring. That's if I can find my brother in this mess."  
Knickers was about to respond, but she began to take notice in a sound that had, admittedly, been going on since they made their descent into the abyss.  
"Do you hear that, Socks?" Knickers asked, holding a hand to the shell of her ear.  
"Yes, it's sort of a hum..." Socks strained his own ears and pinpointed the location of said hum.  
But there was a problem.  
"Huh... it's pitch-black down here."  
"Oh, no worries," Knickers said, reaching for her Proton Pack.  
She screeched once she acquired it.  
"Oh, no, it got busted!" She slapped and kicked it, garnering a faint, flickering light from it, but it did nothing to truly penetrate the permeate darkness of this pit.  
"I guess there's no choice now..."  
Socks stood up to full height and closed his eyes, sighing.  
Seconds later he began to emit a sort of heavenly aura that glowed.  
It made Knickers feel safe and warm being within it, however, something was wrong.  
"Guh!" Socks fell to his knees, heaving as if he had ran for miles without rest.  
"Socks, are you okay!?" Knickers placed a hand at his shoulder.  
"Yes. I... Something isn't right with this dark..." Socks looked up and saw nothing.  
But he surely felt something.  
A haunting something.  
This was no natural darkness.  
In fact, if Socks remembered correctly, this kind of darkness was a _Devil's Shroud_.  
"Devil's Shroud?" Knickers asked.  
"Yes. I read about it long ago," Socks sat a little straighter, his breath evening out. "Do you know why everything frightening and evil is associated with night and darkness?"  
"Er... Well... Why is it?"  
Knickers could have answered what she thought she knew, but while speaking to an angel, she acknowledged that it might have been different than from how humans perceived it on their own.  
"It is because those things can safely lurk in the shadows and feed off of humans' pitiful fears of the unknown. Humans cannot see into the darkness, and what they cannot see is left to the imagination. Some ghosts and devils were able to take their shape by this alone. It's where they're said to have originated in mass, those apart from Fallen Angels and the Devil himself."  
"W-wow, really?"  
"Yes. And so, any true demon or direct descendant of the Devil can amass an unnatural darkness that negatively affects the weak-minded and Holy. Unless they have had prior experience, the will, and the strength to combat it. Those are usually high-ranking Angels, Archangels, and a few gifted humans." As Socks said so, he turned to look at Knickers and realized she hadn't shown any signs of exhaustion or weakness.  
"Ginger...?"  
"Yes?" She cocked her head like a puppy dog, and Socks grimaced.  
"Never mind. Anyway," Socks stood right back up and tried again to radiate his Holiness.  
It was clear from Knickers's perspective that it was taking a great deal of effort on his part, but she knew that no matter what she said, he'd continue.  
She'd only get a whack on the head and a scolding for speaking up.  
Though she couldn't help worrying for Socks's well-being, she went with him to where the humming was loudest.  
In no time at all, they found a door.  
Where that door led to was anyone's guess, but it was where the humming seemed to be coming from.  
"Brace yourself," Socks steadied her and himself, then pried the door open.

**YOU WORTHLESS MOTHERFUCKERS! I'LL MURDER YOU!**

"...Hello, brother." Socks winced and said.  
"...Oh," Boxer blinked, and took a second to look sheepishly away.  
"Boxer!" Knickers squealed and ran to hug him.  
"Ow!" Boxer's eyes widened exponentially upon contact.  
It actually _hurt_ to have her thrust onto him, which it shouldn't have.  
When it comes to endurance, a human bullet wouldn't really faze an angel—it would hurt as much as a bee sting.  
But right that moment, Knickers's lunge and full weight felt akin to an effective gut-punch.  
These chains and this darkness must have really gotten him.  
"I'm sorry," Knickers pulled back and looked at him, "are you all right?"  
"Tch... Of course I am!" Boxer would sooner die than admit to how weak he was feeling.  
"You don't look too well," Socks stated, approaching him gracelessly.  
He was wasting vital energy just so they could simply _see _through this darkness.  
"Neither do you. Hell, you look worse than shit," Boxer smirked.  
"And you look like a mortal," that was as much a sting as it was an observation.  
A truly shocking one at that.  
"What's that's supposed to mean!?" Both Boxer and Knickers snapped at him.  
"Ginger," Socks said, kneeling down and heaving.  
"Y-yes?" Knickers said, worriedly.  
"Can't you see the change in Boxer's appearance?"  
She had to look hard in this dim, but once she thought to really look at him she could see clearly, just how much Boxer had changed: He looked a lot lamer, heaving as Socks was.  
Boxer no longer emitted an aura of radiance.  
That Holy aura Socks was expelling at an alarming rate; that which set them apart from humans—that which also made them more alluring.  
To put it bluntly: Boxer looked ordinary.  
But it was worsening; if Knickers had to guess, anymore time spent in this darkness would probably reduce both brothers to barely-breathing skeletons.  
Stricken with fear by this revelation, Knickers stood and looked around her for something to help with the situation.  
She resorted to patting, then kicking her Proton Pack, and at length, finally managed to turn on its light.  
It didn't do much—as Socks's own radiance would have at full blast—but she could work with it, if she took baby steps.  
"Where are you head—headed, Ginger...?" Socks wheezed, his Holy light glowing a bit dimmer every time.  
"I'm gonna do something about this dark!"  
With that she hurried into a random direction, and ran smack into a wall, and yelped.  
"We're gonna fuckin' die." Boxer groaned.  
"No! No. I can handle this!" Knickers said firmly, literally putting her foot down.  
Then she set off again with more conviction.

Knickers found herself entirely alone, trembling with fears of the dark, and the possibility that she could be ambushed by ghost spiders at any given second.  
Regardless, she trudged on, determined to help her new angel friends.  
As the word "friends" entered her mind at that particular moment, she paused in her step and lowered her funny flashlight.  
She paused to actually think about that word, in regard to Boxer and Socks. Had they really acted the way friends should have? Toward her?  
Some of their actions, and their own words, suggested otherwise.  
_**He tauntingly—mockingly called you "human;" you two are literally worlds apart.  
You fancy that blond one, do you not? Has he shown any sort of caring toward you?  
**_"Well, he... They did favors for me... They saved Mint and Blackberry... And Socks saved me not too long ago."  
_**Only out of obligation.  
Yes, he outright said to you that his only goal is to return to Heaven. If he let you perish then and there, when he had all the power to protect you, he would have never seen its Light ever again.  
**_"But even before then...!"  
_**It's all right to abandon them. After all, you are nothing but a nuisance, a detestable, parasitic louse.  
They're better off without you.  
**_"..."  
Knickers couldn't fathom where these voices were coming from, and it seemed intermingled with that humming from earlier, but she could admit to herself that they were tempting.  
Their words were true, and the sound of them was sensual, sultry. Whispering as if to a dear lover.  
She wanted to hear these voices, and she wanted to listen to what they had to say.  
She felt compelled to listen to them, and find the exit to save her own hide.  
And she was certain that if she walked out now, she would be safe.  
But she was also certain of something else: If she left now, Boxer and Socks would be in terrible danger.  
And this Devil's Shroud was draining them of their energy.  
They'd be powerless against the spider ghost queen and her offspring.  
"I have to save them. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I just left here and now! I told them I could do it, and I'm gonna, SO _SHUT UP_!" Knickers screamed, but she didn't know who or what she was screaming at. Nevertheless they sounded aghast as she did so, taken aback, and then angry.  
Regardless, after a couple of creative, and considerably lengthy (in words) slurs they left her alone... For now.

Knickers felt rather proud of herself after that. She took a deep breath, and with a smile, went on her way to find some way to clear this dark fog.  
Luckily, she didn't have to go much farther, as in the dim light emitted from her flashlight, she discovered a peculiar little skull model.  
It seemed like an antique; a treasure when she went closer to it, as embedded in its forehead was a dazzling purple gem. She was so distracted by it, for a moment, that she overlooked how the skull was constantly belching from its opened jaw, a viscous, black torpid mass that could only have been the source of the Devil's Shroud.  
And as it did, it also emitted that atrocious humming that she and Socks heard this entire time.  
Knickers did not know the proper way to cut off the flow, so she went with her gut, and smashed the skull with the bulk of her Proton Pack.  
She was momentarily deterred by the hollow moan that came from this action, but the atmosphere was clearer for it.  
She no longer felt a chill from the darkness surrounding her, and this was just enough to convince her that she did the right thing.  
As she was getting ready to head back to the angel brothers, she was stopped and forcibly pinned against the wall next to her.  
"You shouldn't have done that, sweetie." Said a vaguely familiar, deep purr of a voice.  
"P-Panther?!" Knickers didn't have to guess, even though she hadn't seen him in so long.  
"Oh, you remember me, then? That's too bad," Panther said in lament. "That means I'll have to kill you before it's done."  
He touched her face with mock tenderness.  
His one hand could have potentially crushed her own skull with how big around it was.  
Indeed, she was dwarfed by this man by a hundred fold, at least, that's how it seemed to her.  
"G-g-...g-go ahead! I... I don't care!" Knickers said, stammering, her teeth chattering and her knees buckling under fear and pressure.  
She cared immensely, but she didn't want to outright admit it to this horrible, horrible man. Not even when her actions made it head-shakingly obvious.  
"Poor thing. I really do feel bad for this," Panther lowered his head slightly, pressing his nose into her hair. "If only you had heeded the voices in your head, you'd've lived a little longer. But..." Panther pulled back and considered her with a hint of admiration. "I commend your actions regardless. It's really hard to find someone as honest as you. You're not so easily swayed."  
"Yeah, but apparently YOU are!"  
Panther turned only to be socked in the face, and then hefted over, surprisingly by a slightly smaller entity.  
He was thrown across the room and ended up colliding with, but not quite shattering a strong glass window.  
The impact managed to incapacitate him, and that was enough for the blond angel boy that did it.  
"Boxer!" Knickers shouted in surprise and relief.  
"Yeahthanksandallthatmushyshitbutwegottagetourassesingear, c'mon!"  
Boxer grabbed her wrist and started running straight out of the room with her in tow.  
"Wait, whoa! Boxer, I can't run that fast!" Knickers protested, her arm screaming in silent protest of its own.  
It felt to Knickers as though it would tear.  
"Ugh, fine!" Boxer took the millisecond to pause and then carry Knickers instead.  
"Eep!" Knickers was at once too shocked to even say anything besides that.  
But after a few more moments, running frantically, and then briefly meeting, and adding Socks to the equation, asked why they were in such a hurry.  
"As soon as the Shroud let up and we regained half our strength, there was significant activity heard from up above. The ghost spiders are getting restless. I can only surmise that we'll be surrounded in only a matter of minutes," Socks said, then seemed thoughtful for but a second. "Although, I'm fairly certain that the queen is somewhere here. Either we find an exit and get our bearings, or we find her and take her out at only 50%. It's your call, brother."  
Boxer seemed surprised when Socks said it was his call.  
But it made a tiny lick of sense, seeing as how he would have been worse for wear.  
He felt well enough to run and then take out Panther, but then he had the element of surprise.  
And again, Panther, for as large and experienced as he likely was, he was still only a human.  
Going up against a queen of a ghost might not be a good idea in his recovering condition.  
But if they went away and tried to regain more strength, that could give the ghost spiders enough time to recuperate, and come on with double the strength themselves.  
They'd be fighting an army, with the only sure way to be rid of them for good was to take out the queen.  
"... I'm taking my chances with the queen!" Boxer said, and Socks nodded in understanding and agreement.  
They took several detours to open doors and survey new locations, and after a few tries and much frustration, they stumbled upon a bonafide nest of cluttered egg sacks.  
"If the queen's anywhere, it'll be here." Socks said matter-of-fact.  
"Good," Boxer set Knickers down, and then reached down his pants to retrieve his underwear.  
To this, Knickers grew bashful and turned away as Boxer armed himself.  
"Let's go."  
Knickers only looked back once Boxer was decent, feeling a bit embarrassed still.  
She was unsure whether or not she should follow, but Socks made it clear that it'd be best if she stood closer by tugging her arm (a bit more gently than Boxer previously had) and taking her along with them.  
Several paces further into this room, and they could hear heavy breathing and moaning. Something was moving ahead of them, and it was indeed massive.  
Knickers clung immediately to Socks, and, although irritated, Socks did not pry her off him.  
"Bring it on, queen-bitch!" Boxer hollered at it confidently, despite the fact that he was only half-ready.  
The response he got was an ugly one:  
The creature towered over the three of them, and was nearly tall enough to collide with the ceiling.  
Its upper-half was bear and flat, making it difficult to truly distinguish it from male or female.  
Its face was twisted with gnarly teeth and fangs, and three sets of pure-black eyes.  
With lengthy, skeletal limbs that ended with human hands, it continually stretched out and coiled its elongated fingers, adding an even more sinister feel of its dark, claw-like nails.  
Overall what could be seen as somewhat human appeared to be suffering from a really bad case of Marfan syndrome.  
To top it off, the skin was taunt and a sickly gray, showing off an intricate array of veins, some protruding and throbbing, especially further down.  
The lower half of its body was that of a spider's abdomen without an exoskeleton; entirely covered in that grotesque gray skin, like that of a dead person.  
Supposedly to add insult to injury, the drider woman(?) sported long, lovely blonde hair on its not-so-human head...  
"Great googly moogly!" Boxer said in utter shock, which seemed to have effectively offended the spider-creature, as it recoiled and emitted a vicious snake-like hiss and click.  
"What is...? That's the spider queen!?" Knickers yelped in astonishment.  
"I... I think so. I mean it _is_ the biggest thing in here." Socks said.  
He imagined bad, but not _this _bad.  
"Well, whether it's a queen, king or big gray peen, it's gonna have to deal with us now!" Boxer said.  
"Go get 'em Socks!" Both Boxer and Knickers said, turning to face him.  
"... I thought you said 'us'." Socks said in utter bafflement.  
Both Boxer and Knickers sighed, but looked at each other with a strange sort of mutual understanding.  
All this joking aside, Boxer and Socks readied their weapons and prepared themselves for battling this creature properly, while Knickers stood at as good as a distance she could get.  
The drider ghost queen struck out at Boxer in spite, leaving two limbs seemingly open for Socks to slice off.  
As Socks went in with his longswords raised, he was blindsided by another limb, and grabbed in its hand. Stunned, Socks belatedly stuck the point of his right-hand sword into its grisly skin, eliciting a shrill sort of cry from it (and for a moment, Socks felt sorry that he could not have enjoyed its unforgivingly tight hold).  
As the creature was busied with that, Boxer took the opportunity to shoot at it, aiming for its eyes and potentially its brain.  
The creature, lethargic and lumbering, held up its many limbs in defense, shielding those more vital areas as best it could.  
"This one's tough!" Boxer said in adrenaline-fueled glee as Socks landed beside him.  
Socks teetered for a bit, and was driven to his knee.  
"Oy!" Boxer turned to appraise him, torn between being concerned for his brother, and for the safety of the both of them as the ghost drider slowly recovered.  
"I'm fine," Socks said, forcing himself to get up. "I'll try to cut off its limbs, just keep firing!"  
"Right!"  
Boxer kept the creature as distracted as he could, side-stepping and hopping, and firing, while careful not to hit Socks, as he charged and started swinging his sword at the nearest arm/leg hybrid.  
Socks managed to cut clean through three of them, before the creature let out an ear-splitting screech that resonated throughout the underground complex, and not soon after, all three of them (that is, Boxer, Socks, and Knickers) could hear the insectile chirping and skittering of the queen's offsprings, rapidly making their way to their mother.  
They knew now, exactly where to find them.  
"NO!, NO!, _NO_!" Knickers let out a shriek of her own.  
"Don't panic!" Socks called back momentarily, never taking his eyes off the spider monster.

_**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**_

As annoying as that was, the spider-y queen lurched, and appeared in even more discomfort.  
It shook its head and rattled, and was just distracted enough for Socks to stab at its other extremities, and even at a vital area.  
The spider-creature's wounds oozed with purple and yellow, a foul-smelling liquid that congealed into a putty goop on the floor.  
The ghost spider ambled back in clear retreat, which gave the angel brothers the confidence boost they needed to deliver a tag-team finishing move.  
The creature imploded and yielded fifteen Heaven Coins.  
And as a result of the creature's death, the egg sacks all evaporated as if they were nothing, and the incessant chattering of arachnids ceased.  
"Phew," Boxer heaved a great sigh, feeling mighty proud of himself.  
"WOO HOO!" Knickers exclaimed once the worst was finally over, rushing the brothers and embracing them both in a very strong hug.  
The brothers could still feel her strength and be discomforted by it, but they were in no real mood to object to the affectionate display.  
"You guys were really awesome! The way Boxer was all like, _bang, bang_! And _pew_! _Pew, pew, pew_! And Socks was all like _sching_!_ Slice_!_ SCRRRRRRRRRRRRING_!"  
Knickers let them go just long enough to emote all of this.  
Boxer didn't mind the praise, but felt that she was getting a little too into it.  
Socks simply held his head as if he was suffering a migraine.

By the time they exited the warehouse it was already early morning, and, as if on cue, Socks' cellphone had rung.  
And when he answered it?:

"BOY, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!? DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKIN' WORRIED I WAS THIS WHOLE TIME?! YOU BETTER GET YOU AND YO' BROTHER'S ASSES HOME BEFORE I GET ANGRY AND START WHOOPIN' 'EM! JUST WHOOPIN'S EVERYWHERE! I AIN'T PLAYIN'! YOU BOTH WON'T HAVE ANYMORE ASS TO SIT ON, IT'LL JUST BE YO' LEGS OR YA'LL'S FEET. I WANT YA'LL HERE IN THE NEXT SECOND! AND I'M COUNTIN'!"

To be continued...


	8. Datura

**8**

"Boxer!" Both Knickers and Socks exclaim.

Boxer took a single step, stumbled, then collapsed.  
It couldn't have been from exhaustion, or the hangover he had previously, no, he'd gotten over those shortly after becoming awash with renewed vigor and Holy power.  
This must have been something else, entirely. Something _churning_ detestably in his stomach.  
Boxer groaned and rolled onto his side, clutching at his gurgling stomach, while experiencing the most agonizing cramps.  
"Are you OK?!" Knickers squeaked and knelt down beside him, worry etched into her round, freckled face.  
"I'm fine..." I should be, Boxer added to himself.  
"That fight must have taken a lot more out of you than we thought," Socks commented airily.  
He glanced over his shoulder, back at the warehouse.  
"I have a lot of questions for you, Boxer, but I'll save them for when you're feeling better. For now, let's focus on returning home, before Suspender gets _real_ ugly."

...

Boxer was bedridden for a prolonged period of time. Knickers would visit him regularly, faithfully, even.  
However, whenever she arrived Boxer was either writhing in discomfort, or in a fit of restless half-slumber that made her think it was best not to disturb him.  
When she asked Socks for his opinion on Boxer's condition, he assessed that Panther (and whoever else) had more heinous plans in store for his older brother than originally anticipated.  
"What do you think they wanted to do to him?" Knickers asked him, as they moved to the front room to leave Boxer to rest.  
She sat in an armchair, faced partway to Socks as he slouched in the couch beside her.  
Normally Socks would have presented himself in a more proper, upright manner, but he and Knickers were now acquainted in a way where he didn't feel the need to be so formal and business-like.  
And besides that, he was tired as hell.  
Between having to routinely change Boxer's bed linen, (not even mentioning how he was so disgusted upon entering Boxer's room, that he had to clean the culminated mountain range of a mess then and there) and spending sleepless nights hearing his brother moan incessantly, Socks's patience had nearly run out.  
"... I have a theory," Socks said after a length of silent contemplation (and potential plot of murder, camouflaged as "assisted suicide").  
His gaze went off to the side, and there was a slight pause and hesitation, as if he didn't want to present said "theory" to her at all.  
Knickers could see that, and for a moment she considered dropping the matter, but curiosity got the better of her; she wanted, desperately, to know what was causing Boxer so much pain right now.  
"Wh, what is it?"  
"...Recall that there were thousands—possibly more—spiders, and, quite possibly, many more eggs left unhatched along with them in that warehouse?" Socks lifted his chin, peering at, but not quite watching the TV.  
"I'd rather not...!" Knickers shook her head vigorously.  
"And you say you've had an encounter with Panther?" Socks took the time to look at her, ignoring her distress.  
"U, uh-huh."  
"Right, well... I may be wrong entirely, but..." Socks licked his lips, reluctant to relay his thoughts. "...But I've known from my studies of Earth's creatures—this wasn't required knowledge, mind you, but I felt the information might yet be useful down the road—but I've known that some insects ensnare others to impregnate them with their eggs, and when those eggs hatch, the parasitic larvae end up eating the host from the inside out."  
"Like in Alien?"  
"What...?"  
"Never mi—wait... WHAT?" Knickers startled, then panicked. "Are you saying that that queen spider im-i..._**IMPREGNATED**_ Boxer with her eggs?"  
"It's a possibility," Socks picked at his ear to make sure they weren't bleeding.  
"You're being all nonchalant about that...!" Knickers's legs gave out from under her—as she had risen to a shaky stand before—unable to support her weight anymore from overwhelming feelings of fatigue, nausea and worry.  
"I'm not, trust me. But based on what Panther said—claiming that he would need to keep Boxer for a week or so—and the alarming numbers of ghost spider offspring we found in that warehouse—not to mention how Boxer was considerably weak once we had arrived—safe to assume that he was the first—perhaps last—of many candidates for Spider Baby Factories," Socks's expression contorted into an almost comical grimace. "I always figured that Ghosts would be sickly, but I didn't think it was ever _this_ twisted."  
"But, wait... Why would they need Boxer? You just said that there were countless spider babies—and we _saw _them ourselves—so... ."  
"As I said, it was a theory—flawed, and I could be wrong—but if I had to guess, I'd wager that they were hoping those spiders would inherit the traits of their host," Although he didn't quite like the thought of being _wrong_ about anything, he hoped he was about this, at the very least. "I really don't know what was going on with those particular ghosts. Their composition is unlike the others—they're unreal," realizing how counter-intuitive that sounded, considering the fact that they're speaking about _ghosts_ of all things, he hurried in further response: "By that I mean that when they were struck down, they didn't drop any Coins, and they did not combust." Socks's brows knit and his lips pursed in bafflement.  
He wanted to confront Panther himself about this, solve this bemusing puzzle, but it looked as if that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.  
"Anyway, the spider queen's been obliterated, and her children went along with her. If I had to guess, I'd say that Boxer's body is working to expel the toxins and waste, resulting from the eggs' dying and rotting."  
"You make it sound like Ghosts are organic... For being ghosts and all." Knickers tried getting up, but realized that that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, so she remained with her bottom firmly planted on the floor.  
"I still don't know too much about Ghosts, myself … Well, I'm certain now that Ghosts can come in any shape, size, and with varying physiology."  
"Right..." Knickers looked thoughtful for a moment, before clenching her fists and meeting Socks with a determined look in her eye—or what could be seen of her eyes from underneath her bangs. "I'll work hard to help you and Boxer fight the bad guys!"  
"What could you—?" Socks stopped himself mid-question.  
Truth is, he already knew what Knickers was capable of.  
Though it isn't very much, she has proven herself useful, with dog-like loyalty and determination, as she's demonstrating it now.  
Socks couldn't understand why that was—why she was committed to him and his brother like she was—even when her infatuation with Boxer was blatant, and as shallow as: He's a _damn_ good-looking angel beefcake.  
Socks figured it was better not to question her logic and instead just allow her to do as she pleased.  
"Very well. I appreciate your help, Miss Knickers."  
Knickers's eyes went wide in shock and awe when she saw Socks's benign and genuine smile.  
She should have considered herself lucky to see it even once, as it was rare, even for Boxer—his own brother—to see.

The month finally comes to an end...

Re-construction of Daten High began shortly after the damage had been done, but it's been progressing rather slowly—not that the students were going to complain about that.  
Socks probably would have, as it gave him reason enough to socialize with the more well-behaved, and interesting groups of humans.  
It was a good learning experience, mortal high school, for a centuries-old Angel. Who would have thought?  
Not surprisingly, a lot of questions were asked, surrounding the sinister milk-pumping machine, and the students' general well-being.  
Accusatory fingers were pointed in all directions, and very few accepted the mere existence of Angels and Ghosts.  
This was beyond Socks's jurisdiction; let the humans squabble among themselves, he's done his part there, already.  
Moving on...  
While Socks would have loved to have investigated the incident at the warehouse complex further, he could find no new leads on Panther, try as he might.  
For a human, that one was crafty.  
Although it was likely that he was having... supernatural help.  
From where, and from who, Socks couldn't be sure.  
It had to be a demon, though, in order for there to even be a Devil's Shroud... .

With nothing better to do with his time, at present, Socks turned to study on his own: Reading non-fiction from Daten's local library, and the like.  
Of course, he delighted himself with sweet, sugary treats, as per usual.  
Christmas was just around the bend, and, next to Halloween, it was Socks's favorite time of the mortal year—not for the true cause of celebration, despite what you may think, but for its commercialized use: The gifting through obligation and contrivance, the admittedly warm, welcoming decorations,the confectioneries, _especially_, and amusing himself with just how far people were willing to go for that "Holiday Spirit".  
Why, he even found some enjoyment out of the tired old Christmas carols.  
As for Boxer, Socks decided better to leave him in the dark about what ailed him a month ago.  
The important thing was that he recovered, and was back to his old bothersome self.  
Boxer, unlike Socks, found less to like about winter: He hated freezing his ass off in the cold, the dark of the lengthier nights, while they didn't frighten him, left him unsettled.  
What's more, women (the smarter ones at least) wore less-revealing, heavier wear to keep warm, thus leaving him with less to ogle.  
But he had no qualms about begging for presents and worship.  
Being an angel, he assumed the humans would bestow upon him their worldly possessions and gifts (and sex) if he should ask for it.  
But even that was short-lived, thanks to his worrisome younger brother.  
Well, today, Suspender tasked the boys with shopping for food and decorations.  
Suspender was curt in putting up and taking down decorations, whereas she complained loudly about how people nowadays would glance over Thanksgiving in November.  
They had their turkey and ate it and gave thanks as they should have! Even though Boxer was still getting over (supposedly) expelling dead spider eggs then.  
Boxer decided to take Mink out to drive, but Socks fancied himself to walk instead. They ended up going their separate ways from there.  
Boxer made up some hackneyed excuse, but Socks really couldn't care to listen, knowing his brother would only go to goof off; he took the shopping list for himself, promising he'd get everything, and let Boxer go to enjoy himself, quite generously.

Socks took his time, strolling leisurely down the busier and busier streets, bypassing carolers, and the families relishing in the good mood and cheer the season brought with it.  
Socks supposed he enjoyed the sincerity in those few who appreciated Christmas for what it was, despite its flaws, and even for the holidays occurring around this time of those of different faiths.

They had their place, worth, and beauty.

...

Socks bought a little more than what was listed, for himself, and figured he could take his sweet time getting back to the church.  
On his way bypassing the park he noticed a crowd across the street from him, growing as quickly as it would curiously disperse, and as soon as he witnessed this, a powerful, pungent aroma bit at his eyes and nose. It gave him pause, but as it settled over him, he discovered it had a familiarity to it—was tender, even.  
Simply put: It was the foul stench of death and decay.  
Socks couldn't quite recall, but his heart groped desperately, reaching far out to try and recover a distant, beautiful memory from many, many years ago.  
Try as it might, it just couldn't quite grasp it, but it was certainly there, and due to this, Socks was drawn to the odor that would have otherwise repulsed anyone else (and it did).  
Socks pushed and weaved through what remained of the crowd and made it to the center of attention; revealing unto him an extraordinary sight: A girl far beyond her years, short in stature, having on a simple and plain white dress, fit for any occasion, and cutely missing a Mary Jane shoe that would have matched the other on her left foot.  
Fair hair draped over, and past her small, narrow shoulders.  
So pale as to match the snow falling daintily about her.  
Then there were her eyes... Dear Lord, her stunning, deep-blue eyes.  
Like two lapis stones.  
This is what Socks saw, this was all he could see, this was what Socks _wanted_, more than anything else in that moment, for eternity, _**forever**_.  
Socks saw and heard nothing else as his legs did him the courtesy of moving him forward, graciously, but agonizingly slow.  
Her name. He _must _know her name, at the very least.  
"Hello..." Socks was surprised he could even say that much, but he was glad for it.  
The girl looked up at him, frightened. Up until now, everyone simply gawked, turned up their noses, fled, or lashed out at her.  
For her appearance, for the smell, and whatever else about her.  
When approached again and now, directly, she didn't know what to do.  
Her first instinct was to flee, but as before, she found no clear cut escape route, and the last time she budged so much as an inch, she got shoved for it.  
"Please," Socks began again, after an awkward clearing of his throat. "I..." He cut himself short, knowing that he should introduce himself first before asking her name.  
After a firm nod he began properly this time.  
"My name is Socks Anarchy. Won't you tell me yours?"  
So as not to seem imposing, he knelt down to her level.  
It was a risk, as this could easily be seen as condescending, but he had to take it.  
"D...Datura." The girl said, fumbling with her dress to have something to do with her quivering hands.  
Socks fought the urge to take them.  
"Datura..." Socks wanted to get a feel for it.  
Although, he couldn't help but think that he's heard the name somewhere else before. In a book, maybe?  
"It's a lovely name."  
And he really thought it was.  
"I..." The girl—Datura—was truly at a loss for words.  
Likely no one's ever complimented her before.  
"Are you lost?" Socks asked.  
In truth, he was vying for a topic, anything to continue the conversation after introductions.  
He wanted to get to know her.  
For now, he acknowledged, it was mere intrigue. Fascination. Or so he assumed.  
Whatever it was, it made his heart pound heavily, incessant, and insisting, against his chest, and his cheeks felt uncomfortably warm (although that might have been from the frost).  
He wanted it to stop, but at the same time he didn't.  
It felt good.  
It was embarrassing.  
It was so **warm**! Mayday! _Mayday_! He was screaming inwardly.  
"I... I think so," Datura said after some thought. "I'm not sure where I'm supposed to be now... and I can't find my shoe." She gazed and gestured down to her bare, frostbitten toes.  
"You poor thing," Socks said, pained to see them. "Will you come with me? I will take you to the church, up on the hill. You know it, don't you? Please! Don't misunderstand me, I really do want to help you."  
_You're beautiful. You're gorgeous. You're perfect. I want you._ Was all and everything he wanted to say and tell her, again, and again.  
Quietly, after some encouragement, Datura took Socks's hand, and she allowed him to lead her up Celetubby Hill.

...

Boxer lay sprawled on the couch, in front of the TV.  
He gorged himself on the barbeque chips he bought for himself, as he flipped through the channels with a bored expression.  
"Boy, where the hell is everything I done asked you to get?" Suspender nagged.  
"I'unno, Socks said he would get it." Boxer said around a mouth full of chips.  
"And where the hell were you?!" Suspender was becoming redder in the face from all the pent-up rage.  
"I was minding my own goddamned business!"

Boxer seemed to have a knack for saying and doing the wrong thing, as he found himself struggling to keep his ass intact from Suspender's studded belt.  
He was chased all around the church, wailing, hands over his ass cheeks for protection.  
Chuck, poor thing, was trampled and squashed by the both of them, happening to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, as he tended to be.  
Just as Boxer was making his way up the stairs for the sanctuary of his own bedroom, he overstepped his boundaries and ended up taking a fatal plunge, falling on his face, ass-up, ready and ripe for punishment.  
"OH **S**UGAR. **H**ONEY. **I**CED. **T**EA!" Boxer shrieked, possibly rivaling one of Knickers's.  
"YOU GON' GET IT NOW!" Suspender raised her belt overhead, and Boxer braced himself for the worst.  
What Boxer expected was red-hot, lasting pain to his small, virgin butt, but instead he had the misfortune of aggravated assault to his nostrils, and by extension, Suspender suffered the same anguish.  
"Oh, God, what _died_!?" Boxer said, clamping his hands over his nose now.  
"Woo-wee! Somebody open a goddamn window!" Suspender turned to do just that, while fanning the air out in front of her in vain.  
Just as she did, she was met with Socks, just returning home with several bags in hand, and a zombie in tow.  
"I'm home, Suspender. I've got what you asked for." Socks held them out for her to take, seeming unaffected by the stank that permeated the church.  
"I, ah... Boy, what is that stink?!" She asked, not keen to take the bags as it would occupy her hands.  
And for now, it was her hands civic duty to protect her dainty little Black nose.  
Socks, on the other hand, wasn't so keen to answer her question, but it turned out he didn't have to, as the answer was standing just inches behind him.  
"Who's the broad, and why does she smell like skunk piss on blue cheese?" Boxer chimed in, getting to his feet, finally.  
"Watch your mouth, Boxer," Socks bit and glared in Datura's defense.  
"What? You can't just sit there and act like the shit don't stank!"  
"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!" Suspender hurried away from the situation as quickly as her legs could take her.  
"Apologize to Datura, right now." Socks insisted.  
"_Bruh_, listen to me, just... DUDE, SERIOUSLY! THE GIRL **STANK**!"  
"Boxer!"  
"No, it's all right..." Datura said, finally.  
"But..." Socks began, as he turned to face her.  
"I know what I am, I know what I look and smell like... I know it's offensive. I'll just leave,"  
"No—!"  
"Get to GONE, woman!" Boxer, insensitive bastard like he is, shooed her without hesitation.  
"Shut the FUCK up, Boxer."  
"Why you gotta make me the bad guy here? Any other time, shit, I get it, I'm an asshole, but... _Damn_, man!" Boxer, having enough of the foul odor, let himself out of the room, for his own sake.  
With a sigh, Socks proceeded to the kitchen to set the bags on the counter. There was quite a bit to sort out here, but it was rather minimal given what people were willing to go through, and how much to spend on this holiday. For as boisterous as she was, Suspender could be quite modest in places.  
Not so modest as to not speak her mind, clearly, and ear-splittingly loud.  
Socks turned back to Datura, who shuffled about on her feet, wondering whether to stay or go.  
Socks knew the smell was awful, and at first he was struck with its pungency too.  
Regardless, it reminded him of something. He wasn't quite sure what it happened to be, but being near Datura, not just the smell of death, made him feel contented.  
There was a happier time in Socks's life that even Socks couldn't recall, but Datura brought it back to his attention.  
Besides, the girl was obviously distressed and searching for something.  
Being a gentleman, he had to lend her a hand, he simply couldn't let her be.  
"It's all right, Datura. Like I said, I'm here to help you." Socks offered her a smile.

It took a moment of fidgeting, but she returned the gesture in kind.

To be continued...


End file.
